


Two Princes / Learning How to Crawl

by Sans_Souci



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (2011), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Politics, Arranged Marriage, Banishment, Community: norsekink, Culture Shock, Explicit Language, Gen, Hard graft, Hermaphrodites, Intersex!Loki, Jotunn!Loki, Multi, Other, Science, parents shouldn't know those words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Souci/pseuds/Sans_Souci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fish-out-of-water story. AU. Banished to Midgard for ages, Thor and Loki are not happy campers. Or even happily married for that matter. But they still hold true to their oaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude to a Fall / First Night

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/2496.html?thread=2357696#t2357696) prompt on norsekink. Specifically a very "long, painful adaptation" to Earth. Also being filled [here](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3938.html?thread=20894306#t20894306), but with more html-fail and typos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue

Odin was angry. Well and truly angry.

“Foolish boy!”

Flushing under Odin’s merciless regard, Thor remained silent, veins throbbing in his neck as he suppressed a heated retort.

“And you! Surely you can rein in your spouse?” Odin transferred his glare to Loki. His son-in-law had the grace not to pretend that he had no part of this affray. 

“Would that he have ears in his head to listen!” Loki did not bother to keep the sneer off his face or from his voice.

They had been wed for barely half a year, but the newly forged alliance between the royal houses of two Realms seemed to be an alliance in name alone. The two Princes were as different in temperament as fire and ice--an apt comparison for Loki was from the land of the Frost Giants and Thor’s temper ran as hot as molten iron in a blacksmith’s forge.

The last diplomatic mission had not been a success. The pair of them had been sent as a test of their abilities, but it had been obvious to all that Loki was the natural ambassador and speaker. Left to his own devices, Thor had accepted an invitation to hunt and while their hosts _might_ have forgiven him for accidentally entering their Sacred Grove, the matter of taking a shot at the Sacred Hart was something else altogether. Perhaps their hosts might have accepted that it was all just a misunderstanding, but hot-tempered words had been exchanged. What really transpired had been mired in the ungainly fracas that ensued. 

Loki should have smoothed things over with his silver tongue, but he had only fanned the flames in the end with his double-edged barbs. Some perverse imp of mischief had overtaken his good sense at some point. 

Back in Asgard to face the music, they stood like errant children in the throne room, discomfited by the contempt in the All-Father’s eyes and shamed by the censure in Frigga’s normally gentle face.

“I am disappointed with you both.” Odin’s brows drew together like twin thunderclouds clustered ominously over his glacial gaze. “Beardless children have more sense. Unlike callow youths, you will be punished in a manner more befitting your station.”

“What manner of--”

“All-Father!” Spurred into action, Loki looked as though he was preparing to defend himself verbally and then some. But it was too late. Odin raised his staff and brought it down onto the marble floor with a thump. Behind the king, Frigga bowed her head.

“You are banished,” Odin intoned. “Until you learn better. Until you _both_ learn better.” 

“Father--“

The universe lurched around them and everything became a kaleidoscope of colour and finally blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_First Night_

_Falling--it was all about falling at first--_

The ground was _hard_. And the wind stung his skin, tiny razors biting at him as he heard nothing and saw nothing other than the dark maelstrom that raged above.

The storm subsided moments later, leaving only the mournful echoes that faded in the dusty air around him. 

Spitting sand and grit, Loki lifted his head from the surface he had landed on. A muffled groan to his right caused him to turn. Thor, likewise face-first in the dirt and trying to lever himself up.

A terrible suspicion began to form in his mind as Loki peered across the dark, sandy terrain and down at the skin of his palms by the fitful light of an alien moon. The scrapes and tears were not healing as they should.

“No . . .” The word escaped him before he can suppress the rising feeling of panic. His magic was gone as well. His shapeshifting abilities. His natural form.

“No!” Anger replaced panic swiftly as he reached for what once was there. “He had _no right_ . . .”

But as King and ruler, the All-Father had the right to banish his son and his son-in-law. Strip them of their position and power. Make them _mortal_. From where he was sprawled, Loki could see Thor slowly arrive at the same conclusion as various aches and pains refused to subside.

Sitting upright and holding his thick skull as though a fall like that could possibly hurt it, Thor unwisely opened his mouth. “Father will get over this soon. We will not languish here long—” 

That was the final straw. Loki found a target for his fury, launching himself at Thor with a speed that surprised the Thunder God. “Your fault! You oafish dolt!”

They had not brawled physically before. Perhaps even in their pique, they had known that it was not done for spouses to throttle each other, not politically correct for royalty to scrap like dogs fighting over bones. Poorly matched and duty-bound, they had entered the alliance ill-prepared to deal with cultural and individual differences. 

Back in Asgard, it had not mattered so much. The princes had separate suites and barely spoke to each other at the feasting table. It had been a given that their marriages would be political in nature, but they had chaffed at being thrown together for public occasions. Possibly only their monthly congress in the bedchamber resembled a marriage for they were passably good company when they did not need to speak much.

In public, they were aloof and mostly polite to each other. In private, their conversations tended to descend into verbal sniping. Thor avoided Loki and his barbs while Loki found scant joy in baiting his spouse. It might have started on the very first day of their marriage, when Loki discovered that his husband was a boisterous warrior who got drunk at any given opportunity and preferred haring off on hunts whenever there were matters of state to attend to. It might have started long before the two of them were even told of their impending nuptials.

It was refreshing to see Thor’s eyes widen in shock as Loki’s fist connected with his nose. Loki’s triumph was cut short by the pain that blossomed across his knuckles, but he used the rest of his body--his suddenly all too mortal body--to compensate.

It did not last, of course. Thor had greater mass and reach despite being surprised and Loki found himself hitting the ground again on his back with the breath driven out of his lungs.

“ _Loki_ . . .” Thor’s arm was across his throat, holding him down. “Do not think yourself blameless in this matter!”

“Of course! You can’t possibly at fault! You’re the Prince of Asgard!” Loki growled into Thor’s face as he vented his spleen. “Spoilt, brainless and thoughtless!”

Bright blue eyes flashed dangerously above him as Thor pressed him down. “You’ve never treated me as a prince! The whole court knows you think me a dullard!”

Mortal bodies were frail. Thus their blows would bruises and Loki winced as Thor gripped his wrists with crushing force. However, it also meant that his knee, when it did connect solidly with Thor’s groin, had the effect of making his dearest spouse loosen his grip. Loki did not press his advantage, suddenly feeling the weight of despair crushing him more surely than his husband.

“You _are_ a dullard. I am without magic. Cast adrift in a strange Realm. As least in Asgard, I could revert back into my true form.”

Thor’s longer blond hair brushed his cheek as the former god lifted his head to peer into Loki’s face quizzically. “Loki,” he began hesitantly. “If it had caused you such distress--”

No pity--not from _him_.

“This is stupid,” Loki wheezes, shoving Thor off him even as the shame of starting the fight and letting slip his frustration crept over him. “Unproductive.”

A grunt from Thor might have been a yes or at least a grudging agreement. Picking themselves off the ground, they found themselves without their armour, without weapons and more sore than they were before the fight. _But where would they go now?_

There were pinpricks of light in the distance--possibly mortal dwellings--and it was agreed that they should seek shelter first and recover from the injuries sustained by their fall.

Thor did not mention that it had been Loki who started the brawl. In silence, they trudged over the rough terrain. It was a longer journey than they had expected. In their bruised and battered state, every step was torturous. Sand got into their boots and raised blisters long before the shape of a small township emerged out of the gloom. Another hour and the shape of the loosely assembled buildings became clearer.

By that time, Loki was feeling the effects of the desert at night and he was seething at the indignity of feeling even the slightest bit of cold. Him, a Frost Giant, chilled like a mortal! 

No less affected by the cold, Thor took the initiative to scout ahead and returned with news that there were abandoned and empty dwellings. Loki was secretly glad for he was in no shape to be stealthy after their trek. 

Rather than chance the larger buildings further away, they decided on the nearest--a shack or lean-to that had seen better days. Tight-lipped, Loki allowed himself to be helped the last few metres into the meagre shelter.

He no longer cared that Thor was watching as he collapsed onto a pile of musty canvas. Exhausted by the stressful experience and wrung out by anger, Loki let the darkness claim him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Second Night_

They rested in the shed well into the second day. Having fallen asleep moments after he had closed the door on their wooden shelter, Thor lay not two feet from Loki and had slept like the dead.

He only woke when the sun was well on its way towards the western horizon. He realised a moment later that the strange sensation that had woken him was a raging thirst, the alien feeling of hunger and the urgent need to piss.

Thor stumbled out, aches and pains flaring in the wake of movement and solved one problem in the low bushes. As for the other two . . . perhaps he could hunt and find water. A look around him told him that this was no wilderness he had ever hunted in. The desert still lay to the south and no forest broke the even flatness of the plains. A road made of a dark, dense material lay just beyond the bushes. More dwellings and buildings could be seen in the yellow-gold light of sunset. Even the air was unfamiliar, every breath scented with strangeness and the heat of this land.

Thor, God of Thunder and Crown Prince of Asgard, was well and truly lost. It was not a sensation he was familiar with.

“Heimdall?” The dry rasp of his own voice startled him. “Heimdall, can you hear me?”

“Have you word from Father?” he shouted at the sky. “How long does he intend to strand us here?”

“Can you stop shouting at nothing? It’s giving me a headache.”

Thor turned to the dark head that had emerged from the shed, almost frantic. “Someone has to be watching us.”

“Or they might not be.” Already fair-skinned in his Aesir form, Loki looked paler now with bruises and minute cuts mapped out in clear relief on his face. “I don’t see Odin All-Father just sending us down for a day or two before letting us back into Asgard again—hooray, all’s forgiven, let’s have a feast.”

Loki’s sarcasm had always grated on Thor’s nerves. His clever words could always be turned to sting. “What does he expect us to do here?”

“ _Here_ is probably Midgard,” Loki said. “The constellations over the desert last night were strange to me, but this Realm is more . . . hospitable to these mortal bodies than the others. As for what we should do . . . I expect we are to learn our lesson and work together, dearest spouse.”

It would be easier if Loki did not sound as though he was saying something else every time he used that endearment. He was also, in all probability, right about their situation.

Thor could not spend every moment on Midgard arguing with Loki. He _would_ not, Thor promised himself. “We need food and water.”

Loki did not appear to be spoiling for a fight. He merely took care of his bladder in the same way, moving carefully in a way that suggested that the fall had lingering effects on him as well. He had no spells or magic to supply them with what they needed, though Thor spied the tell-tale smear on the shed’s dusty floor that told of an aborted spell.

Without weapons, power or sorcery, they were well and truly bereft of familiar things.

Thor found water first. The old rusted spigot by the side of the road barely resembled the glided pipes of Asgard, but it yielded a trickle of tepid water when turned. After slaking their thirst, Loki stuck his head under it. He had always been a stickler for cleanliness and Thor had honestly never seen him so dusty and dishevelled before.

“If I look as bad as you do, no amount of washing is going to help,” he said and Thor realised that he was talking about the visible signs of their brawl when Loki gingerly touched his face. 

“We should not look such a fright in the dark,” Thor said, allowing the long tapered fingers to examine his recently abused nose--Loki had been able to do small healing spells even before their marriage. They were not going to be feted as princes here, wherever _here_ was.

Abruptly withdrawing his hand to push back his dripping hair, Loki looked them both up and down critically. “A fine pair of wanderers we make.”

And like rootless gypsies, they stole closer to the more inhabited areas of the town as the sun finally set. It would be better to think of this as a scouting mission, Loki had said, as reasonable as ever. They should find out the lay of the land first--needed to establish if the natives were friendly or not.

It was not Thor’s inclination to skulk about. But constrained as they were by their apparent mortality, perhaps it would be better to exercise caution.

But caution was not nearly enough as bright lights and blaring noises from speeding metal wagons ran them off the road not once, not twice, but _three_ times.

“The roads are not for walking on,” Loki said, picking himself up from the roadside for the third time. “It’s also not necessary to tackle me every single time--I can move aside, you know?”

The peevish tone made Thor smile. Secretly. In the dark where Loki could not see. Loki’s hair was in a complete and utter disarray by now.

If they had thought that darkness would be their friend, they were proven wrong as the orange glow of lamps mounted on poles illuminated the streets. It did, however reveal the humans of Midgard going about their lives.

They were certainly receiving rather suspicious looks as they walked on.

“Look we so strange to them?” Thor was certain that they looked human enough to pass muster.

“We’re injured, dusty and tattered. They must think us vagrants and are probably wondering if we should be run out of town.” Loki’s face was rigid in the light of the lamps--set in a particular way that Thor remembered from their time in Asgard.

They moved closer to the shadows in unspoken agreement as they watched the Midgardians. Much was happening around them. More of those steel wagons clogged the streets where the brightly-lit buildings were.

“It’s some centre of commerce,” Loki murmured as he observed the transactions between the humans. A sort of paper was changing hands for food, drink, clothing and other strange items in all shapes and sizes. “And we do not have their currency.”

Thor’s stomach protested in an unprincely fashion. There were savoury smells in the air, wafting from the storefronts and backs of alleys.

“Can we not promise them that we would pay them back later?” Later, when they had the means. Thor could not imagine being in this state for long.

Loki’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “You’ve never actually dealt with these sort of merchants before, have you?”

In the end, Thor followed his nose into an alley and fortune smiled upon them for not two doors away from where the tantalising scents rose from, a man was setting out large sacks outside by some large boxy chests. He moved back inside and closed the doors before Thor could speak up.

“Thor, this is a place the Midgardians throw refuse,” Loki said as his nose wrinkled at the ripe odours in the alleyway.

“But this is food--unspoilt food.” Thor had opened the most recent additions to investigate their contents. There were a lot of soft packets wrapped in shiny clear material.

“Bread?” Loki looked in askance at the sacks. “And they’re throwing it all away?”

“My patch . . . you clear off!” A hooded figure surprised them both as it peeled away from the wall of the alleyway.

Thor almost reacted instinctively, almost struck out at their attacker--but was blocked by Loki’s arm and voice.

“It’s not a real threat,” Loki whispered in his ear. “Watch . . .”

“Mine . . .” The hooded man grabbed handfuls of the packets that spilled onto the ground and moved sideways, watching them with beady eyes as he clutched at the food.

“My patch,” he mumbled, eying the rest of the bounty before looking back at them. “But you can have some . . .”

“Very kind of you, sir.” Thor tried to smile in a non-threatening manner, for the man was surely touched in the head. He was thin and unkempt in a way that suggested he was wearing all the clothing he owned on his back. Thor could have broken him with one hand, but that sort of fight would be shameful and demeaning as Loki’s whisper had reminded him.

“We’ll take what you can spare.” Loki took a packet and handed it to Thor.

“Same time every night,” the man said to the air as he tore the wrappings apart and took a bite. 

Thor followed his example and discovered that the bread was practically fresh and there was some kind of meat filling inside. Like Loki, he was surprised that unspoilt food was being thrown out, but his stomach insisted that he ask questions later. 

After three packets, Thor was feeling much better. Loki had eaten two and was crouched by the hooded man.

“And you say this happens every night?” he asked, watching the man carefully.

“Every night. Eight o’clock regular.” He waved his hand, still clutching his food, in the general direction of another alley. “Others have fruit. Veggies. But I like sandwiches best.”

“They are good,” Thor said encouragingly.

“Time to go now,” the man said abruptly. He rose in one jerky motion, clutching his sandwiches and looking about warily.

“But why?”

“Because his turn’s over,” Loki said, looking towards the mouth of the alleyway. Others were approaching--they had the same tattered and wary look of their current benefactor. But they also looked hungry. “We should follow his example.”

If they had moved to intercept, Thor would have fought them. But they kept their distance. It occurred to him later that Loki and himself were obviously larger and more well-fed compared to the vagabonds who had waited to take what they had left behind. Those were not people who would fight if they could run.

Asgard did not have many beggars or people who waited for the leavings to be thrown out. After collecting as much food as they could carry in their hands, they followed the Sandwich Man as he moved away, keeping an eye on their rear as they went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Interlude: A Very Long Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand years isn't really that long by Aesir and Frost Giant standards . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Odin_

Thor, God of Thunder, heir to the throne and wielder of Mjölnir, was severely discomfited.

“But surely the betrothal can be delayed--“

“Thor, a king keeps his word. Laufey will keep his--as will I.” Odin turned from his contemplation of Asgard’s mighty spires and focused his one eye on his agitated son. “You have known of your betrothal for centuries.”

“But a Frost Giant! How am I to marry a--a Jötunn?” Thor ceased his pacing. “A giantess?”

“Laufey assures me that his _son_ Loki is a sorcerer and can shift his appearance to suit our Realm.” Odin moved closer to his son and heir. “Surely you do not expect a Frost Giant to survive in the summers of Asgard. And that your king would make you so ill a match?”

“The treaty was forged centuries ago. Surely Laufey has tried to renegotiate--“

“Oddly enough, Laufey has not.” Odin’s gaze was stern. “Kings do not bargain like common merchants. Not when the peace of two Realms depends upon it.”

Desperately, Thor tried to remember something of his lessons in statecraft. “But his firstborn _son_? Surely it would be a marriage in name only? Until Laufey passes and Loki inherits?”

Odin’s tone became like that of a teacher lecturing a particularly inattentive student. “The Frost Giants have but one gender, Thor. It does not matter if we call them sons or daughters of Laufey. And it was Laufey who offered his firstborn.”

Thor fell silent as the weight of Odin’s words hammered the rivets into his future.

“Laufey’s throne is not as stable as it seems. Jötunheim’s future depends on this alliance for his people are not content to crouch in a frozen wasteland. They have waited almost a thousand years for this day. Loki Laufeyson comes of age in a week and the alliance of an Age is to be forged in a month.”

“It is also not unknown for the Jötnar to form alliances with Aesir or Vanir,” Odin continued. “You are young, Thor, but not young enough that you will be spared the responsibilities of your position, Prince of Asgard.”

For once in a thousand years, Thor felt the weight of his position truly at that moment. Like chains settling around him and weighing him down like the threads of the Nornir.

“What did you offer Laufey for his first-born son?” he blurted out. By the look on his father’s face, Thor knew that he had asked an intelligent yet uncomfortable question at last. The All-Father turned aside for a moment, his grip on Gungnir tightening.

When he turned back, Odin looked older than he had in years. “I held his Realm’s heart in my hands. To keep his Realm from dying, he bargained another heart.”

“What manner of hostage did you take then?” Thor asked.

“The power source of their Realm--the Casket of Ancient Winters. The Jötunns would never thrive without it.” Odin’s single eye seemed to be staring through time and space to that long ago battlefield. “I bound it with my power between worlds and while it resides still in Jötunheim, none may touch it but I. Until Laufey’s firstborn is wedded to you, Thor.”

“You desire this alliance as well.” The realisation came late to Thor, but it made sense in the light of all Odin had done so far.

“The stewardship of the Nine Realms means that all nine worlds are to be protected. Without the Casket, the Frost Giants are no threat, but they would die out eventually.” The All-Father looked at Thor again. “Despite your personal feelings, would you have the death of an entire race on your head?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Frigga_

Frigga was more frank and less delicate than Odin when she sought him out a few days after he had been informed of his future nuptials.

Thor had taken to the taverns of Asgard for a lengthy carouse, followed by a hunt that lasted three days and three nights after the All-Father had given him that ultimatum. He had dragged his companions back to their rooms after they had pleaded exhaustion before seeking out his own bed.

The thought of marriage was alien enough to keep him awake. He sluiced himself down in his bathing chamber and washed away the grime of the hunt before he considered finding another wench to warm his bed. The responsibilities of his position had never felt so close as they did now. Marriage and potential parenthood before kingship . . . With a frustrated growl, Thor threw himself into bed and slept fitfully until morning.

He was roused from slumber by his mother’s women drawing aside the curtains around his bed and setting out a generous morning repast on the table in his outer rooms. Frigga had chosen to break fast with her son on this morning.

“Good morning, Mother,” Thor muttered sheepishly as he stumbled out of bed and hastened to make himself presentable. She was probably going to take him to task for being away for so long on a hunt and making merry in at least five taverns along the way.

“You look as though you’re troubled by thoughts of impending matrimony,” his mother observed. Impeccably groomed and gowned in a simple kirtle with embroidered hems, Frigga was Thor’s direct opposite as he mumbled something unintelligible and went to relieve himself. 

Clad in a robe and soft slippers, Thor padded out into his outer chamber to find his mother seated at the table by the window. She had poured herbal tea for him in anticipation of his hangover.

There was no escaping it. Thor steeled himself as he sat down gingerly and blew on his tea to cool it. “Mother, you knew what Father was planning all long, correct?”

“Yes. I was there when it was brokered.” Thor tried to muster his thoughts as Frigga nibbled on a wafer-thin slice of cheese and calmly ate grapes.

“And you approve?”

“I don’t _disapprove_. Matrimony would do you good.” One delicate eyebrow arched sharply. “Marriage is my area--you know this well.”

“I should have known something was off when you didn’t push me at Sif or any of the other girls,” Thor said sullenly as he drank his tea. He had known that he was engaged to royalty of another Realm since his youth, but had paid scant attention to _whom_ he had been betrothed to until now.

“I had my reasons.” Frigga watched her son intently as she framed her next statement. “Thor, you are not new to the bedchamber--“

“Mother . . . We--we’ve had this discussion before.” A mighty warrior and proud prince, Thor was still cowed by the very idea of discussing the issue of _sex_ with his mother.

“Yes. That was about not populating half of Asgard with your offspring,” she said dryly. Frigga looked like she was trying to refrain from rolling her eyes at him. “A consort would require the exact opposite.”

“But surely he can assume the form of a maid?”

Frigga was persistent. “What if he doesn’t?”

Thor saw the faintest glimmer of hope, alliance be damned. “Then I don’t see how he can fulfil his end of the bargain if there are no offspring!”

Frigga moved to snuff that faint gleam of hope. “The Jötunn have survived perfectly well with one gender.”

“But how do they . . .” Thor’s brows furrowed.

“He’ll have a cunt in addition to the expected cock and balls,” Frigga stated baldly. “And a hopefully fertile womb too.”

Thor spent a moment floundering--mothers were not supposed to know words like that! Especially not the Queen of Asgard! And there was the utter strangeness of the proposition she had set before him.

The Queen of Asgard was still the goddess of childbirth and married women--and she seemed hell-bent on reminding her son about it. “Son, you might be experienced in wenching and whoring, but husbanding is an entirely different matter altogether. I cannot leave it all to your father to explain. Have you two spoken?”

Even without words, Thor’s face was an open book to his mother. “Ha! My husband left it all to me. We will have words before the day is out, Odin All-Father.”

Thor would not like to his father’s shoes when Frigga had that look on her face. He quailed even further as Frigga laid a hand on his arm and drew him closer.

“Thor Odinson, we need to speak of a great many things.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Laufey_

Loki Laufeyjarson did not rail at his parents when he was told that the terms of treaty that had been brokered when he was but a babe in swaddling clothes were to be met within a month of his coming of age.

Instead, he sought the privacy of his tower study. His perch or eyrie, Laufey was wont to call it. Indeed, he could see most of the city’s spires and bridges from the high windows of his room. “City” was a grand word for Laufey’s walled stronghold, but it was still the most impressive settlement in Jötunheim. After the war, rebuilding had gone slowly, so this fortress was only a crude approximation of past glories.

But Loki called forth ice and made a full-length mirror in one archway that day and blocked his favourite view.

He resembled Laufey in the sharp lines of his face and the whipcord lean shape of his undersized body. Of Fárbauti, he had his sire’s intense ruby red eyes and nothing of his bulk. While Loki would never be the tallest of his kind, he would be of average height amongst the Aesir. How would he look if his skin was not blue . . . Or his eyes not the colour of their freshly spilled blood?

The ability to shift his form had come to him as one of his later gifts. He remembered that Laufey and Fárbauti had been most impressed by it. Was it because it would serve another purpose in the future?

Loki was still a dutiful son. And perhaps this was the reason his king and sire had saved him for. A greater purpose, at last.

It was up in his eyrie that Laufey found him that day, pondering his reflection in the ice.

His king and dam was considered crafty and full of guile by his race’s standards, but Loki could hear him coming up the stairs. He had the knack for being aware of his surroundings and the living things therein.

“Do you think this will do?” Loki asked as he turned around to show Laufey his work.

Dark red eyes took in his new form for a long moment--black hair and pale skin uncharted by raised ridges, so alien to this Realm. “It would be necessary if you are to live amongst the Aesir without burning them with your very touch. But change back now--I would have my son look like himself for a little while longer.”

Loki did as he was asked and his skin rippled back into its normal hue and texture. “Can I come back to visit after I am wedded, king and dam?” It was not to have been his first question and Loki felt like a homesick child as the words left his lips.

“You don’t need my permission for that, do you? I only fear you would be too busy. The Aesir have the magic of their Vanir vassals at their disposal.”

Laufey knew him well--Loki did not need to acknowledge his desire for more knowledge.

“Was that why you did not renegotiate with Odin All-Father when you had other sons?” Loki asked. “Because my magic made me more attractive as a potential consort? The Aesir do not value it as much--“

“Odin knows more magic than many a Vanir witch.” Laufey shook his head impatiently. “Look you--look at Fárbauti and myself. What do you see? What are our roles?”

Loki concentrated. “Fárbauti . . . is the warrior and you’re the war chief who plans battles.”

His father nodded. “Consorts do not necessarily share similar traits. It is better that they complement each other. Fárbauti helps to temper my ambitions sometimes.”

“As you temper his lust for violence?”

“Yes--he needs me least the berserker rage takes him,” Laufey said. “It is my hope that you will complement the Asgardian prince.”

“Who is war-like and thirsts for action all the time?” Much like Loki’s sire Fárbauti.

“So you have already heard. That’s my son.” Laufey was rarely demonstrative, but he patted Loki’s shoulder in a paternal fashion. “Odin All-Father wishes this as well. Someone to temper his son’s excesses.”

Loki’s mouth twisted up at the corners--not truly a smile, but Laufey would understand. “You are generous in your assessment of my abilities.”

Red eyes gleamed in the shadows before Laufey looked away. “It was the fairest bargain I have ever made.”

“What did Odin offer you then?” Loki wondered.

“Peace and the heart of this Realm.”

Realisation hit almost immediately and Loki almost stopped breathing. But they were up here in his tower room with only one doorway and a long flight of stairs--Laufey had known that they would be alone. “The Casket of Ancient Winters . . .”

“Truly, I had thought I had out-bargained Odin All-Father at first. But a parent grows to know his children--”

“Regret nothing--you did what you had to do.” For what was one undersized firstborn son compared to the lifeblood of the Realm? “It is to be gifted at the handfasting?”

“Aye,” Laufey said matter-of-factly. “The Casket lies in a vault under the citadel, bound by Odin’s power so that it lies untouchable by any hand between worlds. The All-Father will remove his influence when the bargain is concluded.”

Loki could hardly believe it--the Casket was practically beneath his feet, hidden from him by Aesir sorcery. And it would only be released after he, the most promising sorcerer in an age, was removed from his homeland and denied a chance to study the Casket. The Gallows God was shrewder than he appeared.

“I will uphold your bargain as your firstborn.” He held his spine straight and kept his chin up. “You will not hear complaints from me.”

_Let it not be said that I was the least of Laufey’s sons._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Fárbauti_

The more war-like of his parents, Fárbauti, could be found with the teams of Jötnar clearing the ice floes from the river for the fishermen after the worst of the frost was past. Loki’s brothers Býleistr and Helblindi would be there too, but it was their sire that noticed his presence on the riverbank that day and stopped to hail him.

Mighty Fárbauti had fought to be Laufey’s consort even after Loki’s birth. Perhaps he had something to prove after Loki’s birth or perhaps he really did like Laufey’s company, but few people argued with him. Not when he was capable of splitting the thick river-ice for several spans with one blow.

“Loki.” His sire loomed over him, breathing easily despite his exertions. The width of his shoulders was easily three times that of Loki’s. “You have been in your eyrie for so long that that I thought you had turned yourself into a bird and flown away.”

_I am a fettered falcon that does not fight the hood and jesses._

“Would that I have that skill,” Loki said. “Will you sing for the handfasting? You who prefer to split skulls and sing of victory.”

“As much as my blood sings for the tides of war, there must be life to sustain the cycle.” Fárbauti looked out over the river--almost a mile-wide span of ice-encrusted water--and the labourers toiling upon it. “Your generation needs room to grow.”

“Do you think I can grow, in the city of the Aesir?” Loki asked curiously.

“Perhaps. Odin All-father has his Vanir hostages and their city is home to much sorcery. You might like it.”

“But I’ll be . . . different from them.” Loki looked at the others, well aware of the differences between himself and his own kind.

“ _Still_ different--that’s what you mean, isn’t it?” Fárbauti crouched down by Loki, eyes still on the workers as they toiled. “But you would be mated with someone more . . .”

“Compatible?” The bitterness rose in his breast against his will--he had had it under control for so long too! “Did you not object to the match because you thought I was doomed to be alone forever?”

There was a brief pause before his sire spoke. “Yes.”

For a moment, Loki hated that he had been so transparent even to Fárbauti. But he was grateful that his sire cared enough for his undersized offspring and his obvious undesirability. In that, his sire’s simpler, more practical nature was clear--to be unwanted and unmated was the worst thing that could happen to a Frost Giant. 

No doubt there would be consorts vying for a place at the heir’s side, but in the matter of coupling . . . Loki would never be able to rut with fully grown Jötnar without maiming himself in the process. Carrying a normal-sized child to term was another matter altogether. He might be able to convince another to allow him to mount them, but his stature was already unappealing. After all, what if his offspring were similarly undersized? What if his stunted nature bred true? 

It was this old, cherished bitterness that made Loki lash out. “So I will be an unmated and unbreached bride after all! And then my spouse will find the space between my legs odd or repulsive--”

“We are not so unattractive to the other races as you make out. And you are not and nor will you be the last undersized child born in Jötunheim,” Fárbauti said without rancour--whatever face he might have lost when Loki proved to be a runt had been regained when he had sired other typically tall, solid offspring. “The sagas do not describe a man’s height but how many enemies he cut down and the mating that usually follows.”

Loki remembered that his sire had sung of the exploits of his ancestors on many a night and his favourite songs were about cross-species romances. Fárbauti did enjoy sex and no doubt pitied Loki’s status. _He means well, truly he does._

“But I am the first to aspire to such a lofty position?”

“Laufey would have you be the Asgardian prince’s equal.” His sire looked vaguely nostalgic. “We used to carry off the Aesir and the Vanir, but it’s apparently not done these days to club someone attractive over the head and drag them back here.” Fárbauti‘s chuckle was deep and booming--it was oddly soothing and Loki felt calmer for it. “The mixing of blood produces stronger children too. Even the All-Father knows this--intimately, I should say.”

“But the Aesir do not have children like we do. Half of them can’t even carry a child.”

“Different species. It works for them. And their crown prince is male--the non-child-carrying half.” Fárbauti shrugged at the oddities of the Aesir. “You will be dam to Asgard’s heirs. Perhaps one of them might marry their cousin. Or be Jötunheim’s future king.”

“You sound like Laufey now.”

“Do I? Perhaps Laufey would like to try hefting my spear now.” His sire’s eyes gleamed in mirth. “It’s not that much of a secret amongst us that Odin’s line branched from Bestla’s.”

“So we’re just doing what we usually do--but with formal treaties?”

Fárbauti’s laugh was louder this time--startling the nearby Jötunns. “I think I will miss you.”

“You and Laufey might be the only ones.”

“Perhaps . . . Your dam is fond of your wit.” And perhaps that made it slightly better.

His massive hand reached down to touch Loki’s brow. “Be strong, youngling, I lose a son as Jötunheim gains an alliance and its heart again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	3. Day Three / Night Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not being princes is hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The food lasted until the next morning and they discovered that the people of Midgard liked their bread soft with fillings like ham, some sort of mashed-up fish, eggs and even with vegetable and fruit.

After they had left the alley, the Sandwich Man had wandered off to other such places where leftovers were put out and the denizens of the street would partake of such offerings. There were slimmer pickings at the vegetable market--something about their timing. 

Loki marked those places mentally, but wished that he could make a map of this place with its warren of streets and alleys. His fingers itched for paper and writing instruments. He wanted to record this unlikely saga--the undignified, shameful fall and this odd adventure. People did not talk about their blisters in the sagas and Loki was seized with the urge to talk about his discomfort in excruciating detail.

And he did not wish to become like their acquaintance of the previous night. They had learned that the man without a name did not like the sirens that blared from the metal wagons that flashed red and blue. The smallest sounds made him jump. He lived amidst a collection of various things--the leavings of other people.

There had been Jötnar like that, Loki remembered. They lived on the outskirts of settlements, scrounging for scraps from the refuse pits. They were things to be pitied and ignored because they had no clan or family to hunt for them.

Waking up on the floor the shed, Loki realised that for all that he tried to frame it as an adventure, he was a prince without a kingdom--a man without a home or usable coin in his pocket. There was only the snoring bulk of Thor sprawled next to him. His heart and fists clenched unconsciously. Even now . . .

“Wake up!’ Loki snapped, sharp fingers and sharp elbows digging into Thor’s side.

“Hffggh--to arms!” Thor woke and peered at him blearily. “What? Loki?”

“I want to go out in the day. We need to know more about this world.” Loki pushed himself off the floor and told himself that he did not miss his bed and the fine bed linens back in Asgard. Much. His back was _not_ aching either.

Thor was agreeable to this suggestion despite the fact he was slow to wake up and as sluggish as a bear after hibernation. They polished off the last of the sandwiches while Loki thought furiously about how they would blend in.

To walk amongst the humans, they would need to dress less like vagabonds. Unless clothes were left out as frequently as food, this would be a problem. And there was the matter of outfitting two people of their height and Thor’s girth.

The people of Midgard had certain similarities with the Asgardians, certainly. A majority of two genders. Obvious secondary sexual characteristics. Male and female pronouns. Male dress and female dress--though the dress code seemed a lot more flexible here. What he had seen the previous night had given him some hope for the humans did not dress in an ornate or expensive fashion--no armour or gold edgings anywhere. And he was still more used to the simpler, functional clothing of the Jötnar.

“We need to get clothes. These are falling apart at the seams anyway,” Loki announced, fingering the fraying edge of his cuffs and the rips in his trousers.

Thor forbore to mention Loki’s penchant for looking tidy and they went out into the bright light of day.

Loki washed his face and visible skin as well as he could at the old spigot while Thor drank like a thirsty horse. But everything from the night before did not prepare them for the town under the hot midday sun.

They did not fit in. That much was obvious. Loki was used to being stared at and could ignore it. Thor was used to being stared at--for completely different reasons and he shrugged off the humans’ curiosity easily. That, and the fact that his biceps were the size of his head and most people looked away after a while.

Loki’s unease grew as they continued. This place was not like Asgard. Not like Jötunheim. And there was still something else . . .

But it was Thor who put him thumb right on the nub of the problem as it was.

“What do these symbols speak of?” he asked as they passed a wall papered with a great many posters and flyers.

But Loki did not hear him. For he had discovered what was disturbing him all along.

He could not read the signs. The words on the paper stuck to the walls. He might as well be blind and deaf. A child without knowledge of the world he was immersed in.

This was more cruel than anything else. He would wager that the Sandwich Man knew how to read--that the youngest child walking alongside their parents knew how to read. 

“Loki--“ Thor--still solidly there and himself--brought him back again.

He took a deep breath to centre himself again. This will not defeat him. If they could understand Midgardian speech, their writing would not be incomprehensible for long.

“We will need a few more things . . .” he muttered as he walked on.

And so he moved past a small crowd and emerged on the other side richer than he had been earlier.

Thor looked flabbergasted when Loki palmed the square of brown leather. “Loki, what have you done?”

“Took someone’s money pouch. What did it look like?” The small cards made of paper and some shiny material within were scrutinised before they were abandoned along with the flat leather pouch. “We need it to learn more of this place--not to mention find something for us to wear.”

“But we should not be as thieves--” Thor had that stupid pole-axed look he got on his face when he could not fathom why the universe did not fall in line with his expectations. “It’s not fitting behaviour for a prince!”

“Lower your voice!” Thor, Loki had discovered at the beginning of his marriage, had no indoor voice. Or any idea about volume modulation. He had to chivvy and urge Thor away into a quiet corner by an alleyway least they draw a crowd--or the owner of the wallet he had lifted.

“Loki, there has to be another way,” Thor said, frowning. “We are not so desperate yet.”

“Oh _now_ you talk about other ways?” Loki felt a dark mirth welling up within him. “Do you expect the humans to fall over themselves to worship you?”

“Well, no--we are not permitted to claim worship from the credulous mortals,” Thor admitted.

“And nor will they believe we are who we are.” Loki gestured to himself and then Thor. “We are practically human now. Even the human beggars are more sure of their place than we are.”

He also doubted that the humans were so credulous these days--Loki could feel it in his bones after a mere handful of days on Earth.

“But surely--“

“Look you--I can fend for myself. I need not my spouse to clothe and feed me.” Even though by their vows, they were actually bound to provide for each other. “I might not be raiding and pillaging this township, but at least I didn’t kill anyone in the process.”

It had come to this again. Dragging up past transgressions to barb his words. Loki could not help it sometimes. Thor was so damn noble that he failed to see that waging war and taking the enemy’s chattel was not so different from being a thief in the night--only with assault and murder thrown in. And it did hurt--Loki could see the bewilderment in Thor’s eyes change into something he would rather not look at too often.

“Peace, Loki,” Thor said at last. “Just this once. Then we find another way.”

“Fine,” Loki said shortly. “I will get us clothing and we shall talk.”

_I will find another way._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Day Three_

The mortals were not warlike and did not threaten strangers on sight. Some of them even smiled back when Thor smiled at them. They were kind to their animals--or at least the dogs that were on leashes looks well-fed and groomed. Loki was not so kind as he lifted the leather money-pouch of a passer-by and removed from it the currency of this Realm.

After a heated argument in an alleyway over the morality of theft and their own desperate straits, Thor reluctantly agreed to allow Loki to seek out appropriate clothing for them.

It had stung when Loki had reminded him of his role as a spouse and of his old title of giant slayer. _That_ had harkened back to one of their first arguments.

_That giant might have been a father or mother. A brother or sister to someone else. You are merely a slayer to others._

And now that he was a husband as well, there was the matter of protecting and fending for his spouse. A vow was still binding and Thor could not excuse himself from it while on another world.

Odin had explained it to him once when speaking of the guardianship of the Realms--almost an age ago, it seemed. _We are as gods to some of the other races, Thor, more powerful than their own kings and princes. If we do not have our oaths and promises to bind us, then what more can hold us back?_

To be an oath-breaker was anathema. Even Loki knew this, for why else was he still here? It had occurred to Thor that Loki could have crept away at any time and lost himself in this world instead of standing around arguing. There had been no real threat that required Thor’s strength or prowess in battle so far.

Thor was not used to feeling _lacking_. He resolved to address it as soon as possible. Hopefully Odin All-Father would judge that they were repentant by their actions and not their angry words. He doubted that it would be their last argument while on Midgard.

Loki returned a little while later with the shirts and leggings of Earth. They were comfortable--mainly because they were second-hand--and Loki had estimated their sizes to within a hair. Thor’s muscles still bulged from the sleeves, but at least they did not look so shabby and were dressed like everyone else.

Ever careful, Loki had stood watch while Thor changed and they switched places when he was done. Thor was used to Loki’s body by now, but noticed that his spouse liked to cover himself from neck to wrist even now.

A handful of the change bought them two bottles of native beverage and sausages encased in soft bread from a small street eatery. Loki had observed how trade was done the night before and had wagered on the fact that he or Thor could look intimidating enough so that no-one would even think of short-changing them.

“It’s sweet--too sweet,” Loki complained. “Like mead without the alcohol.”

“Aye, but as you said earlier, beggars cannot choose.” Thor found the violently orange-coloured drink overly sweet as well, but it was cold and the bubbles were refreshing in the heat. The sausages were terribly lacking in meat--Volstagg would definitely disapprove. “And we need not take from the mortals if we could earn some of the coin of this Realm.”

“Are you suggesting that we work for our bread?” Loki looked incredulous.

“We might not need to if we are allowed back soon . . .” It was most vexing that Odin had banished them to a place which they knew nothing of and in bodies that were almost as vulnerable as the Midgardians. The loss of his power and weapons vexed him even more, but he had not always wielded the hammer of the gods. It was very much like a return to his childhood--only in a foreign land. “And it’s not as though I have not been on quests or done services in exchange for items of similar value.”

“It remains to be seen if the humans require such services.” Loki’s green eyes were shadowed. “I have none of my magic and I know how to hunt as well as you do. What else do we know other than martial arts and lore that is alien to this world?”

The humans did not appear to have the same systems that powered Asgard. And they were primitive in some ways and oddly advanced in others. Clothed and no longer so hungry, Thor felt slightly more enthusiasm for their next task.

“We will not know until we try,” he suggested reasonably.

As it turned out, it was an adventure into the unknown.

People stared when Thor asked them if they needed a dragon slain or marauders taken care of. 

“We’re not hiring,” was the usual answer when Loki took over the inquiries.

The one place that was hiring required a number of papers to be filled in. Loki muttered something about coming back another day and they left, discouraged.

“This is not working. There’s something we’re missing here,” Loki stated as they made their way down another road. The afternoon had faded into evening and the electric lights were flickering on in the shop-fronts again.

“We’re out of luck today--perhaps tomorrow--“

What he was about to say was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Just ahead of them, a man was swearing at a pile of broken glass. He appeared to have been carrying boxes of bottles from one of those metal wagons into one of the shops along the road when one of them overturned.

“Good shopkeeper, do you require assistance?” he asked the red-faced man.

Loki nudged Thor in the ribs and stepped in. “Do you need any help?”

The man eyed them carefully. “My regulars didn’t come in tonight--I might have room for a dishwasher and someone to help restock.”

Before Thor could speak, Loki nodded. “We could help out . . . in return for what you normally pay your helpers.”

“At the end of their regular shift,” the potential employer replied. He must have been seriously understaffed if he agreed to employ strangers on such short notice, Thor realised later.

“Done,” Loki agreed and he urged Thor to follow the man. 

“Wash dishes? Have you done that before?” Thor asked Loki as they crossed the threshold.

“Not so loud,” Loki cautioned him. “I’ve cleaned up after myself before after some rituals. And I’m less likely to break the dishes. You can do the heavy lifting.”

Thor would have protested that he was not that clumsy, but the man--he said they could call him Anderson--turned to them to point out where they were required.

It was some sort of tavern where food and drink--beer included--was sold. There were copious dishes and glasses to wash, as well as a great many crates to shift, they soon found out.

Anderson’s two servitors--just two of them--dashed in and out of the kitchen area with armloads of crockery and Thor did not have much of a chance to speak to Loki as he was kept busy lifting crates of beer and other foodstuffs. And there were large metal barrels of drink that had to be rolled in and set up under the bar. Under normal circumstances, the barrels would not have taxed Thor, but he was sweating after moving five of them.

The single cook on duty was a harried-looking man called Kevin who told him where to put the various boxes in between keeping up with orders of food. It was terribly hot in the kitchen and Thor did not envy Loki his task. 

Hours later, the customers departed and Kevin was smoking some sort of foul smelling substance at the back door while Thor moved tables and chairs under Anderson’s direction in the tavern. Loki was a bedraggled and damp-shirted mess hovering over the sink and his continued persistence was the only reason Thor did not rest.

The end of the shift could not end soon enough. Nothing had been damaged or broken, so Anderson paid them and Loki had the presence of mind to pretend to count the money before they all sat down to beer and whatever Kevin had leftover--some sort of stew, the last of the soup, bread and vegetables. It was palatable enough for all that the beer was weaker than what they were used to. They drank the watery substance more for the coolness that the iced beer offered than anything else.

Thor stuffed himself while Loki gave ambiguous answers to Anderson’s questions. They were new in town and unemployed. They might be just passing through--but they might stay if they found some new opportunities. Thor was mildly astonished when Loki said that they were brothers--they did not look very alike at all. 

But Loki was good at spinning tales and the tavern owner did not press him very hard. They left with the possibility of future employment if Anderson was ever shorthanded. Apparently, he had been impressed by Thor’s ability to shift barrels and crates without complaint and Loki’s tally of unbroken plates.

Bone-tired and ready for rest, Thor was not that surprised that Loki insisted that they continued to collect food for the next day. Breakfast was not guaranteed and they had been merely fortunate to come away with supper that day. 

At least, they had shelter. Thor had camped under worst conditions, but the dingy shed was not a cheery place to return to. However, they were weary after their exertions and sleep came quickly to them that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Bonus: Mr Coulson and Mr Anderson_

Three black vehicles circled the strange imprint in the desert sand before stopping. The men in dark suits that climbed out went to work almost immediately, documenting the site with their devices--rather advanced and not seen anywhere on the market--before carefully erasing all traces that the pattern had ever existed.

Climbing out of the car, Agent Coulson surveyed the site before dialling a particular number.

"It's already fading--we must have come a day too late. No tracks left even if something did land here and walk away. We’re cleaning it up now," Coulson reported as he eyed the wind-swept stretch of sand that refused to give up its secrets. He listened for a moment before nodding and stowing his mobile in his blazer. The others took his cue and piled back into their vehicles, stowing their devices away rapidly with the ease of long practice. 

The cars moved on as though nothing had interrupted their journey.

But the signs were clear and there definitely had been some very interesting fluctuations in the electromagnetic spectrum just days ago at this very spot. Another potential incursion. But who or what had arrived on Earth?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dale Anderson prided himself on his ability to take the measure of a man accurately. The brothers tall-and-buff and tall-and-pale--what were their names again? Thor and Low-key?--were hard-workers and at least tall-and-buff had an honest face. Tall-and-pale was shrewder, more cunning and did most of the talking. It was a load of flim-flam as far as Dale could tell, but they had done an honest night's work and he could not begrudge them a little cloudiness about their past. They got all sorts out there in the small towns in the south of New Mexico. Drifters, wandering truckers and even one or two people on the lam.

The strange accents were a dead-giveaway too. Tall-and-pale definitely sounded slightly British--but the inflections and the way that Thor spoke reminded him of some medieval drama series.

He did not know if they were on the run, trying to start out someplace new or just drifters in the sea of life. But Thor could move the drums under the bar with no help whatsoever and his supposed brother was quick. Dale might have considered hiring them if Joe had not been honestly sick and Anna-Maria had her hands full with one kid down with chicken pox and the other in A and E for a scalded hand last night.

However he could recommend them to try Rachel Wu down at the Golden Phoenix Chinese Restaurant and Takeaway. Or Wu’s sister-in-law Joanna's laundry. If they wanted work, good luck to them, whoever they were, Dale thought as he wiped down the bar in readiness for another evening. 

They were definitely not brothers though, Dale was sure of that. Not by blood anyway.

The bell over his front door tinkled and he turned to greet his newest customers. The suits said government or military to Dale, but they just wanted coffee and whatever pie or cake Kevin had on hand. 

The men in black cars had driven by a few times in the past few years. Which was odd because Nuovo Puerto was not Roswell or any of those so-called hot-spots for sightings. But that was only if you believed that stuff about aliens landing in New Mexico.

The suit doing the ordering looked like he believed in sensible things like black coffee and apple pie rather than aliens. Definitely from some sort of military unit in the area, Dale thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Interlude: One Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an interlude about shopping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Marriage--why is it even necessary?” Thor grumbled as he fended off a blow from Fandral’s sword.

“I asked the same thing many a time,’ Sif replied, vaulting over Mjölnir’s head and making a spirited attempt at braining Thor with the flat of her spear. “But my mother has not been able to give me a satisfactory answer. Nor has she convinced me that wearing skirts is necessary to be womanly.”

“But most of us wouldn’t be here without it,” Volstagg grunted as he went for Thor’s momentarily undefended side. 

“You mean without sex,” Fandral said, trying to distract Thor from the other side. “Marriage being less common than sex, I mean.”

“It’s because you are the Prince.” Hogun, man of few words and collector of a great many weapons, was sparing in his comments, but they were usually pithy and to the point. Much like his blades.

“Bah!” Thor swept all their attacks aside with his hammer and paused as his sparring companions picked themselves up again. “Would that I have a few centuries more. Can it not wait a little longer?”

“You’re already ten centuries and a few score years old,” Hogun said, stoic as usual as he replaced the blades in their various sheathes. In truth, Thor was still young by Asgardian standards.

“Your mother must have been as anxious as mine,” Sif chipped in as she caused her spear to retract back to its shorter but no less deadly form.

“Or the All-Father has plans in motion.” 

“Aye, he does,” Thor said, resigned. It was then that they all decided to take a break in the middle of their spar to speak with their prince and old friend in order to cheer him up.

This somehow became a trip down to their favourite tavern. After around a dozen odd tankards of mead, Thor unburdened himself to his friends, who tried their best to cheer him up. The topic eventually turned to the matter of the handfasting and the gifts that would be exchanged.

"How do I know what to get for a Frost Giant?" Gifts were traditional for both Aesir and Jötunn marriages--that much they had in common. Other than fully binding marriage vows.

"Don't offer up the decapitated head of another Frost Giant," Hogun stated over the lip of his tankard. 

"That would be politically incorrect, even for you, Thor," Sif said solemnly.

"Or the head of a Fire Giant. They might take it amiss," Fandral added.

"Oh you are the most helpful of friends," Thor grumbled into his mead. "I know not what I would do without you."

Amidst much needling, Thor wrangled promises from his friends that they would help him--be it in the marketplace or on a quest.

As it turned out, he would need them to obtain his gifts.

Sif and the Warriors Three did not state the obvious when they accompanied Thor to the bazaars and markets of Asgard and other worlds, often winding up drunk in a tavern by the end of each day. The bachelor party trailed through Álfheim and Vanaheimr before fetching up in the great Night Market of Nidavellir where the workings of dwarf craftsmen jostled for space with the wares from all Nine Realms.

It was a crossroads at which the various peoples of myriad worlds met to buy, sell, trade and carouse if they had the coin. The prince and his companions were not out of place in the great melting pot of races involved in crass commercialism.

For the most part, Thor was oblivious to the silent communication that took place around him as they explored the market. The Prince’s four friends had been trading looks for a while now as they perused the stalls, ostensibly in search of the wedding gift.

“So have you decided on what you’ll get as a gift yet?” Sif asked as she glanced back at the Warriors Three--two of whom were looking longing at the taverns. _We’re supposed to keep an eye on him._

“A fine sword would not go amiss,” Fandral suggested as they passed a stretch of stalls selling weapons. _Oh, has Lady Frigga spoke to you about it too?_

“Fine weapons--the finest you’ll ever see in the Nine Realms,” the merchants warbled. But they fell silent when Thor and Hogun perused their wares--true connoisseurs would not be fooled.

“What think you, Hogun?” Volstagg asked. _Who are you more afraid of? Thor or his mother?_

“Pretty to look at and nice to hold, but these will break within a year or so. Not durable,” Hogun announced as his dark eyes said all that needed to be said. _. . . That was an unnecessary question._

“Hogun has a point. And I cannot go to another Realm with the offerings of merchants!” Thor threw his hands up and the nearest merchants instinctively clutched their wares. “I might dislike the idea, but if I am to be wed, it will be with all the ceremony that Asgard can muster. Jötunheim too. I cannot appear to be stingy or shabby in front of our former foes.”

“True. What about something custom-made?” Fandral smiled, pleased at having made a contribution in an area that he was familiar with. “It might be a wedding gift, but I find that when courting, something unique is more likely to win the heart of a maiden. Or a future spouse.”

“It implies more thought was put into the gift,” Sif said snidely, but this passed over Thor’s head completely. Fandral winced ever so slightly though.

“We are in the realm of the Dwarfs--if it is a master craftsman you seek, we are in the right place.” Hogun looked slightly more cheerful in the presence of weaponry. The thought of visiting some of the famed forges of the great smiths must have pleased him greatly for he looked less grim for a second.

And so they sought a master smith, one Dvalin by name. He was found working in his forge, deep within a cavern he used for a workshop. Around him were the broadswords, shields, spears and knives of his trade. Great axe-heads hung on the walls, sharing space with great links of chain, fine chainmail and even finer jewellery.

He was not called smith to the gods for nothing. But when Thor approached Dvalin to contract his services, the dwarf did not stop wielding his hammer on the blade he was shaping. “It is not possible, Prince of the Aesir.”

“But why?”

Dvalin shook his head ruefully. "I have my son's name day to prepare for--it falls within seven days and I have promised him a feast. But I have a score of orders to complete before I can cook. How am I supposed to accommodate you and be ready for my daughter's wedding at the end of it all as well? I have been so busy, I had no time to untangle my beard."

Truly, the smith’s beard was long and unruly, threatening to wrap itself around his legs or his anvil.

“But great smith, surely you might hire more help or clip your beard?” Thor asked.

The smith’s brows drew together in a frown for the prince had touched upon the weighty matters of dwarf kind--their money, their closely-guarded skills and their beards. Not even a prince could budge them on those matters.

"Thor," Sif murmured, laying a hand on his arm in warning. The God of Thunder deflated visibly as his companions took him to one side and started whispering.

"What tasks do you need completed first," Thor asked again after their hurried conference. "Perhaps you might accept my services in return for what I want?"

Sif exchanged a wary look with the other three warriors as Dvalin the smith appeared to consider this.

Almost two days later, friendships were being put to the test.

“I do not see why we are half way up a mountain. We’re supposed to be looking for mead,” Fandral pointed out as they landed on the craggy surface courtesy of Thor’s hammer.

“The best is supposedly found up yonder peak. Or so Volstagg said that a man in a public house at the last market town told him,” Thor said, bounding energetically up the slope. “Think of this as a quest.”

“Think of this as a quest, you said,” Fandral said flatly as he cleaned his blade an hour later. The decapitated corpses of their little quest lay at their feet. “A trip to fetch mead doesn’t usually involve slaying massive serpent-wolf hybrids guarding a fountainhead.”

But the mead, everyone had to admit, was really good. It made the harrowing trip down the mountain with the barrels almost worthwhile.

Another two days saw Thor and Fandral running after a pair of goats they had bought from a goatherd at a good price--provided they could actually catch them.

"Should we have stuck to the bazaars?" Fandral said in the middle of huffing and puffing as he chased down one goat.

"Keep going," Thor said, only slightly less winded by the exercise. He was not about to let a pair of goats defeat him. A fat roast had seemed an excellent idea for a name-day feast. And there had been the matter of the sheep before this . . .

The goats kept them busy for the rest of the next day. After catching and killing the goats, they had to butcher the carcasses, preserve the hides and split the bones for Volstagg said that the marrow made an excellent soup or appetizer.

"I will never be clean again," Fandral moaned melodramatically when they were done and the meat was being cooked in Dvalin’s great hearth. The fact that he did reek of tanning fluids--a mixture of urine, bile and dung--probably had something to do with it.

"Stay away from my cooking then," Volstagg warned as he turned the spit carefully. The bread was in the oven, the soup was on the boil and roast was coming along nicely. Soon, there would be a feast for the smith's son's name-day. All they had to do now was keep Volstagg from sampling too much of his cooking. That was easier said than done.

Sif and Hogun had kept the smith's furnace going all day and all night for almost a week as the smith worked at filling his many orders. They were much too worn out to speak after their week working for the smith. They had been most diligent at their tasks--be it pumping the billows, feeding the furnace with coal or drawing water to cool the red-hot blades being forged. So much so that the dwarf had completed his earlier work and was more than half-way through crafting his gifts--a fine torque and throwing knives that Hogun had suggested and helped to design.

"My friends--I thank you for this," Thor said, delighted that he was on schedule for once and his mother would have no cause to scold him for procrastination.

Hogun made a very eloquent gesture with one hand--it was probably not a polite gesture--while Sif made an inelegant noise from somewhere behind her sweaty, straggling locks of lank hair.

"You'll have to tell me what that means in your homeland one day, Hogun," Thor said with a laugh as Fandral and Volstagg shook their heads behind him.

Then they had to get the dwarf smith ready for his daughter’s handfasting. The untangling of Dvalin’s beard was not a tale that they would tell over mead and ale. In fact, they very specifically made a pact never to speak of the untangling of the beard and the smith’s bath.

Although Sif had been much interested in the matter of Dvalin’s chainmail smallclothes--so well forged that it flowed like fine-spun silk--and had enquired if it would be possible to make something in her size.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Interlude: Coming of Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about biology and more shopping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki had never been quite so busy as he was in the month prior to his handfasting.

He had gone with Laufey into the depths of the citadel--built over the remains of the old temple--and saw the Casket that he had never sensed. _Here and not here._

Loki could have stayed there, studying the subtlety of the magic--the seiðr that was no parlour trick but high artistry--but he had a wedding to prepare for and the traditional coming of age rituals to perform.

His coming of age began with a trek up Jökullfjall, the highest peak of Jötunheim. All Jötnar made the pilgrimage when it was their time. Alone on the mountain, Loki fasted for three days and three nights and prayed to his ancestors. He tried to put away the resentment he had nursed for so long and opened his mind to the winter. He did not shout _Here I am, still alive despite everything they said!_ That would be far too childish here, in the depths of winter.

They had their connection to the winter of their world--every single one of them. The ice that they could summon was not magic--merely the birth-right of their kind. A Frost Giant who could not hear the winter or form ice was akin to one who was blind, deaf and crippled--even Loki would have pitied such a one, for the child would have been left out in the open until he knew the winter or died of hunger and exposure.

When they passed their first millennium, the Jötnar were considered of age. The darker significance of the ritual had not escaped Loki--that only the Jötunns who survived long enough were considered fit enough to be granted any status at all. Maturity and mating would have begun centuries before, but that counted for very little. Only those who were of age could consider marriage. Quick to violence and used to casual death, the Frost Giants reserved a special place for oaths that would actually bind them to the creation and nurturing of life.

With the thought of this important milestone in mind, Loki prepared himself mentally. He did not petition the Nornir--they who watered the roots of mighty Yggdrasil and wound the threads of fate in their hands. They had been Jötunn once, but no-one was foolhardy enough to petition them or draw their attention. Instead, he asked for patience and the strength to face the future.

Whether it was delirium brought on by the fast or a self-induced trance or something else altogether, Loki woke on the fourth day feeling more at peace with himself than ever before.

 _I am still here_ he thought as he looked back at the mountain’s peak, giving in just a little to his younger self’s ego.

Then he hunted the rare svelldýr--the great furred beasts known as snow bears--in the southern forests with his brothers as the traditional wedding present was supposed to be something at least partially crafted by the would-be consort. The Jötunn normally had the nuptials _after_ the claiming, but compromises had to be reached. With Loki’s guile and his brothers’ longer ice spears, they brought down an old male, past his prime but still territorial.

"Loki." Helblindi peered at him over the steaming carcass of the bear--he was ten feet tall standing fully upright and the very image of his sire. "Brother, you are going away from us."

"I can find my way back. My magic is strong." But Loki knew that he could not traipse around the Nine Realms without a care when he was spouse to Asgard's heir. He concentrated on his task at hand, careful to ensure that the blood trickled into the bowls they had set down.

"Who is this Thor you will wed? He has not challenged anyone for you. Do you have to go to Asgard and challenge one of them then?" Helblindi asked curiously.

Loki knew that Helblindi had not meant to comment on his lack of suitors, but the truth still hurt. "I'm not sure. Though I will be ready if I am called to fight his suitors. Thor is a Prince of the Aesir and Odin's heir."

"The Aesir levelled our world and they know not of our customs," his brother said with the air of someone repeating what they had been told by others. There were many who nursed their old scars.

_You weren’t even born then. And I was only a few days old . . ._

"I will bring the heart of our Realm back with my marriage and Jötunheim will heal. Fret not, brother." Loki made the incisions to skin the bear, silently thanking it for its size and richness of its fur. “And the matter of honour was fulfilled centuries ago when Odin All-Father fought the armies of our dam and king. But they cannot marry each other without forswearing their prior marriage vows.”

Even the most conservative Jötnar could not argue that the house of Odin All-Father had a claim to mate with one of Laufey’s line through victory in battle. Laufey would never have been able to maintain the betrothal otherwise and Loki would not have been given the chance to prepare the wedding gifts.

The gifts were supposed to represent, at their most basic level, how well one could provide for their chosen mate. Loki could have, if he had so chosen, woven wondrous gifts with his magic. But he had not tried it even with one of his own race, knowing that it was unfair to bring sorcery into it. So he had used his guile and his clever words to win the aid of his brothers and ambush his prey. There would be no-one who would gainsay them and mutter that Loki Laufeyjarson was not a wily hunter or overly complacent with his higher mastery of magic.

He had thought long and hard about it while tolling up the mountain--Loki liked to be thorough about most things. The Aesir liked to wear the second skin they called clothing. And they did like shiny baubles even on their armour--the illuminations in their books and tapestries seemed to confirm this. Like the Jötunn, they were a warrior-race--there were those who kept the hearth, husbanded the earth and took care of the children amongst any race, but the leaders were still the ones who made war or peace. Hunting was a perfectly acceptable sport outside giant-slaying, so it would not be offensive to offer up the fruits of the hunt or items of weaponry or armour. Preferably ones that did not reference giant-slaying or the wars between the Aesir and Jötunn.

The bear’s coat was thick and lush and large enough to make two cloaks for someone approximately Loki’s size. So Loki had a cloak made for himself as well for his Aesir shape would not fare well in the winters of Jötunheim. It felt strange to be swaddled in fur and Loki practiced wearing it while in his new form.

The blood-sausage, meat and entrails of the bear went towards paying the metal smith who forged a pair of bracers using Loki’s size for reference. No easy task for a Frost Giant, but the smith was the most skilled in his field and within a week of his handfasting, Loki had gifts fit for a prince.

In the meantime, Laufey had his hands full putting down a rebellion. Like most Realms, kingship did not confer absolute rights in Jötunheim and the northern tribes did not wish alliance with Asgard. An undersized sorcerer prince was still a prince of Laufey’s line, Loki thought bitterly. They would hardly have cared for his fate saved that he was promised to someone known as a slayer of giants and the son of their great enemy. 

But Laufey was King and his world’s fate hung in the balance, so he crushed the most troublesome tribe and scattered their bones across the wastes and into the great sea as a lesson to the others.

The chieftain’s head decorated the battlements of Laufey’s stronghold of Utgard. Loki could see it from his eyrie. The dead thing had little of the chief’s original power and it would be removed before the handfasting. Such unseen gifts the Asgardians would receive.

The tribal stirrings reached even Laufey’s stronghold and Fárbauti recruited the most loyal Jötnar to guard the upcoming handfasting. Concessions had been made for their customs and the Asgardian prince would come first to Jötunheim and undergo their rituals first. Such a thing was fraught with potential peril, but the presence of Odin All-Father would both deter and inflame the rebellious chiefs. The Frost Giants were not easily swayed by rhetoric and Loki wished that most militant of them would see reason. Laufey would be perceived as a weak king despite orchestrating their Realm’s salvation and bringing them out of the darkness. Such was the burden of a king who had plunged them into war in the first place and had to atone for overreaching.

Such was the burden of parents who had to prepare to send their firstborn away to another Realm. Laufey and Fárbauti had greeted him at the gates after his sojourn to the mountains because it was the pinnacle of achievement for both parents to greet a firstborn who had come of age. 

There was also the matter of making sure that no-one tried to assassinate said firstborn before his nuptials to wreck the alliance. Loki had pretended not know of the two parties of guards--including his brothers--that had shadowed him most of the way until he reached the foot of Jökullfjall. The great peak was sacred ground and no-one would shed his blood there at least and Loki remained unharmed in the days leading up to the handfasting.

Privately, the thought of finally mating in a proper fashion was not unappealing to Loki. The Jötnar were loud and often public in their displays and Loki was not made of stone. His fingers had been a constant substitute for the times when he was unpartnered by someone who would be pleased by his mouth and hands alone. He had _tried_ , a number of years ago, and the failure stung more than his partner’s restraint for not plowing into a space that he would not fit into.

Being in an arranged marriage just meant that his spouse was already chosen for him and there would be no fighting involved before the claiming. The justification was that since the All-Father was already married to the formidable goddess of marriage and childbirth and Laufey to Fárbauti, the right to taking a mate was passed onto their sons. His sire was slightly disappointed at the lack of fighting though. Fárbauti always said that fighting put him in the mood for fucking. That was probably why Loki had been born in the middle of a war.

Despite his resolve and his baser desires, Loki did not relish the pain of defloration and the potential bleeding would be . . . messy. The membrane within him would have to be torn further for full penetration and he wondered if he should do it himself. Having no spells to examine himself at the moment, he did not know if several centuries of masturbation had been enough to open the way and he did not like the thought of crafting some tool to aid in the process. He knew that other races might employ carved phalluses of differing girths, but they would still cause him pain if he was not careful. Fárbauti would probably just tell him to let nature take its course . . .

Were there spells to do that? Loki had entertained the idea of disguising himself and consulting some of the witches who eked out a bare existence on the fringes of the settlement outside Laufey’s stronghold, but one visit to that emaciated crone had driven him away when the matter of the price for services rendered had been discussed. No sorcerer would leave blood and tissue in the hands of those creatures--no sorcerer who still valued his independence at least.

There was little time left and his research brought him nothing. He had barely even finished undergoing the rites of adulthood when they started clearing the way for the Asgardian party’s arrival. Before he knew it, Loki was standing on the great bridge with his dam and sire at the head of a phalanx of guards to welcome the Aesir to the stronghold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	6. Day Five / Night Five

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Work like the Midgardians._

Loki would have been delirious with mirth if Thor--stubborn, proud Thor--had proposed such a thing a week ago. 

But a cynical voice inside pointed out that he, Loki of Jötunheim, knew just about as much as Thor did about working like the mortals did. This was proven over countless times during that first afternoon and then in the evening when they actually found someone desperate enough to employ them. 

The money earned was barely enough to get them second sets of clothes--second-hand ones at that.

The following days were not so encouraging. Honest employment was curiously elusive. There were one or two shop-keepers who were willing to take on additional hands to do manual labour. The human who had employed them at his _restaurant_ did not always have work for them. His staff had merely been taken ill or busy on that particular night. Dale Anderson of Dale's Bar and Diner had recommended that they try another restaurant or some place that that required strong shoulders to handle loads of laundry. 

Loki did not particularly relish going back to dish-washing--it was a onerous task and the least favoured amongst the humans. There were some eateries that required extra labour for just that one task alone. He could understand why no-one wanted to be stuck scrubbing pots and dishes all evening now.

It had not been anything like a few beakers of ingredients and the bowls of pigments that he dealt with after a ritual or a spell-craft. His human-shaped hands and their pale skin had wrinkled within the first half hour at the sink. By the second hour, he had wondered if this was a specialised version of a mortal hell dimension because the thrice-damned piles of crockery _would not stop growing_.

Fatigued after that long shift, he had strained to read the man Anderson's body language--Midgardians were rather like the Aesir in how they acted and for the most part, the human had not been duplicitous when he paid them with that papery money and asked them to sit down for a meal. Loki had lied as well as he could despite not knowing what place he could name as a former residence or what they had worked at before arriving at the town of Nuovo Puerto. They had to have stories ready to tell the humans, he realised. These were not people who would easily swallow larger truths about other Realms, but they could stomach smaller lies about a pair of wandering brothers.

And they needed things like identification papers as well if they wanted long-term employment. Employers required things called “references” and “CVs”. And very long forms.

They would mutter something about forgetting something before leaving the forms behind. Even if he could read it, there would be things he could not supply. If they were to find actual employment, they would be required to stay on for several months at least.

But that implied that they were not going back anytime soon. Loki would rather not think about that. Thor, in his quieter moments, kept looking at the sky. Waiting on his father’s word. Loki hated depending on someone else, but it was the only way home. And not just to Asgard. 

So they had taken the temporary jobs that they stumbled upon. No--that the man Anderson had nudged them towards.

They needed an extra server or waiter at the Golden Phoenix and he was told to present himself at ten-thirty in the morning. Loki had discovered that if you looked at a non-existent watch--one of those chronographs worn on the wrist--and asked someone else for the time, they were quite willing to give it to a stranger.

So Loki was early that day and that earned him some good will as he was greeted at the back door of the Golden Phoenix by a cheerful woman with straight brown hair peppered with blond streaks.

"Hey--you must be the guy Dale recommended." She squinted at the handheld device with blue screen that lit up. "Loke Laufeson? Oh, Luke Lauferson. Auto-correct can be such a pain sometimes. Come in and we'll get you a uniform."

Loki-now-renamed-Luke let himself be guided by this mortal, silently marvelling at how mankind just made the world fit around them by filling in the blanks by themselves. A word from another human was enough for some of them and they took his mortal guise at face value.

It was all very odd for when he got a word in edgewise, Rachel Wu would start off again.

“You’ve got the accent--are you from London like Dale? I grew up in Birmingham, but if you knew anything about Birmingham, it’s that most of the kids want to get out,” she continued as she showed him into the employee changing room with its banks of lockers for personal belongings. “So I moved to L. A., got hitched and moved _here_ , of all places. It’s nice to see other expats around. Hey Connie, get the longest pair of pants we’ve got for Luke and sort him out, okay?”

Did she ever pause for breath?

He was handed off to another woman--a more senior staff member--who got him a uniform and showed him where to change before ushering him off for another briefing by the manager. He noticed a bathing chamber by the toilets and tucked that knowledge away for later.

The manager of the restaurant was not Rachel Wu's but Rachel's mother-in-law. Loki wondered if there were any more of her, because just one of them--standing just five feet tall in flat-soled shoes--was enough to put the fear of Madam Wu in everyone working in the Golden Phoenix. She informed all the wait-staff that she did not tolerate tardiness, sloppiness and no-good-college-students-on-break-who-never-show-up-for-work. That was probably why they had room for one more waiter. Their uniforms were inspected more thoroughly than an Asgardian full-dress parade drill. Fortunately, Loki actually had a uniform that fit--apparently some of the younger temporary staff tended towards the tall and lanky side.

Then Loki froze when a pad of paper and a pen was thrust into his hands. But he was given no chance to excuse himself with a lie or clever tale for the manager--manageress, did it matter?--was beside him in an instant. "You'll have to learn on the job--no time for training."

He was passed back to Connie the senior waitress who wasted very few words in instructing him on his job. Loki appreciated her no-nonsense approach, especially when the lunch crowd came through. Locals and travellers in their metal wagons—cars and station wagons--stopped by for their noon meal and soon the Golden Phoenix was quite full.

Washing dishes only taught him that his skin would resemble dried prunes after a while and his back would ache. Working as a waiter taught him how much a chicken _chow mein_ set meal cost, what fried rice was and how to write down the number of orders. Everything on the menu was numbered and Loki could copy those symbols they pointed at without needing to write down things like _wanton soup with fishballs_. He did not need to count out change--the wait-staff handed over the payments to Vera at the cash register and got change to carry back. That was actually helpful for he learned a thing or two about the units of the local currency--the value of the paper money and those little coins called dimes, quarters and nickels. 

They received tips according to how much the customers liked the service. Not everyone was generous or polite, but Loki kept his face neutral. The servitors in Asgard and Jötunheim were not rewarded for prompt service--it had just been expected of them. He discovered that Chinese food smelled delicious--something about the combination of spices they used in their cooking made it more exotic-smelling than the food of Asgard. And he was probably ravenous after dashing to and fro with plates of hot food. The wait-staff were fed on plates of fried noodles after the lunch shift was over, tucking in with forks or pairs of wooden sticks. It was surprisingly tasty for all that there was very little meat or vegetables in the dish. Later, he would learn about the lard. And the oyster sauce and the Chinese five-spice . . .

Head stuffed with endless trivia and actually important facts, Loki staggered out of the Gold Phoenix's back door, his pay in his pocket along with a few other things and actually clean for once. He had discovered that if he asked politely enough and affected the kind of wide-eyed puppyish look that Thor managed to achieve without effort, even frightening managers would unbend far enough to let the temp staff use the employee bathroom shower. Hygiene was very important in a restaurant, as evinced by the repeated admonishments to the wait-staff to wash their hands and not breathe onto the food.

With time on his hands before the dinner shift, Loki meandered about the road they called the Main Street, drawn to the strange blinking devices in one store and then the timeless allure of shelves and shelves of books in another.

Once inside, he was like a thirsty man in an oasis without a mouth to drink with. There appeared to be books on every subject and yet he could not read them.

He almost broken down there and then when he spied a toddler pressing buttons on a particularly stiff looking book that corresponded to the symbols printed on its pages. A tinny, muffled female voice emitted from the boxy spine of the book, “A-ye, A-ye is for apples and aeroplanes. Bee, Bee is for boy, ball and book.”

His estimation of the Midgardians rose as he realised that they had learning aids for their young. And anyone could buy them. There was even another one for numbers.

Fully prepared to invent a legion of nieces, nephews or younger cousins, Loki took his find to the lady at the cash register. She just smiled at him and rang it up for the marked-down price of three-dollars-and-fifty-five-cents. That was not even enough for a bowl of fish soup back at the Golden Phoenix, so Loki knew it was relatively cheap.

Crinkling plastic bag in hand, he set off for the evening shift in a much better mood than the one he had woken up in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Night Five_

Jennifer Hernández returned home from school--or rather, she returned to her mom’s laundry and laundromat on Main Street. She usually did her homework while watching the laundromat in the evening.

Today was . . . just a little different.

 _OMG! U gotta come over NOW_ she texted frantically to her best friends Sarah and Linnie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The laundry was a place that required a lot of heavy lifting. Vans would stop by the service entrance and trolleys of cleaned items were exchanged for loads of linens and items that needed washing.

Thor had no idea how one woman and her two assistants could managed so much washing from early morning to night . . . until he saw the machines that did the actual washing. The mortals just loaded the machines and set them off.

Mr Hernández worked as some sort of go-between, arranging for truckloads of linens and clothing to be ferried to the laundry and back where they originated from. His wife, the energetic Joanna Hernández, ran the laundry while keeping an eye on her shop front--a place where the mortals brought personal loads of laundry to wash in smaller machines by themselves.

It occurred to Thor that they would need to do precisely that soon. There were only so many times they could buy clothing. He was used to clean clothes sent to his rooms and had never faced the issue of what sort of soap to use on his cloak.

During a lull period in which he was not occupied with unloading and loading laundry, he wandered out to this laundromat and had a gander at the machines. The handful of mortals there were reading or sipping beverages while the machines spun their laundry around--they did not appear to mind his presence. In fact, one or two of them smiled at him again.

Later that day, Thor helped an old couple load their laundry into their wagon--called a car--and did a few errands for them before he returned to the laundromat after lunch for Mrs Hernández said that she needed him to watch the front until her daughter could return from schooling to take over.

The young lady Jennifer, when she did return, started tapping furiously on her mobile phone--those devices bored mortals would look at while waiting for their laundry to be done--instead of doing her “homework” as her mother said she should be.

Thor was not one to tell on a lady for small sins. Dinner-time came and went, but Thor was still waiting for Loki. And then a pair of girls similar to Jennifer in age joined her and proceeded to giggle and chatter away as girls were wont to do.

It was only when they kept looking at him from over the counter that he gained a small inkling of what they were about.

They were comely enough, but much too young for his liking. And rather shrill as well. Mrs Hernández was also a married woman and her presence should serve as chaperone to her daughter and her daughter’s friends.

That did not stop them from striking up a conversation and for the want of anything better to do, Thor asked them to show him how to work a washing machine. 

They did, with startling eagerness.

He was just taking off his shirt when Loki, a shopping bag in hand, appeared in the aisle with his usual soundless grace. He was apparently done with his shift too.

“What fun is this then?” He appeared to be in a good mood though. And he did enjoy surprising people.

“Young Jennifer here is showing me how yonder device is utilised.”

There was a decidedly amused look in Loki’s eyes as he surveyed the scene. “Can I join in as well?”

“Yeah, s-sure,” Jennifer said, recovering quickly. “We can stick all your clothes in one load.”

“But sure you don’t mean to leave us shirtless,” Loki asked. “Or without our pants?”

The look in all three girls’ eyes clearly said _Damn_.

There was a lost laundry box--Jennifer hauled it out from behind the counter and they had their pick of the jeans and shirts inside. The girls looked doubly disappointed when Loki pushed Thor into the toilet at the back to change.

“You always check the door before disrobing,” Thor observed when they were changing.

“I’m not planning to alarm the Midgardians with my genitalia--they’re not quite ready for the shock,” Loki informed him dryly as they stripped off. Fair enough then--Jennifer and her friends did seem rather impressionable.

Loki made it up to the girls by pulling coins--or quarters--from their ears and hair as their clothing went through the spin cycle and then the dryers.

“You’re like a stage magician or something,” the one called Linnie said as he performed his sleight-of-hand. “But _way_ cooler than that guy who did tricks at my cousin’s tenth birthday party.”

To this massive over-generalisation of his true abilities, Loki did not take umbrage. He only smiled and made her earrings disappear, then reappear again in her back pocket to the chorus of “I didn’t even see your hands move!”

“I never thought I’d be so glad of blessed silence,” Loki remarked as they left the girls and their chatter behind them. He had practiced his stories on them, adding on odd details for veracity.

“They were only playing,” Thor said as they walked out into the orange-lit streets with their clothes clean and a new set courtesy of the lost laundry box.

“And I was playing along. It was instructive though.”

“Learning how to use mortal devices?”

“No--I was impressed by how easy it is to con young girls out of a handful of change in return for seeing you shirtless though.” Loki’s teeth were a flash of white in the gloom. “Was it always like that in Asgard?”

“I wouldn’t have taken advantage of them, if that’s what you mean,” Thor said, stung again by how callous he appeared to his spouse. Or perhaps that was how he appeared to some strangers. “They’re young and they did not mean any harm.”

“That we know of. You’re in a precarious position because we don’t know what the laws governing minors are here.” Loki had studied Asgardian law when he had first arrived in the city of the Aesir--there were apparently a lot more laws concerning day-to-day things there as compared to Jötunheim. “But I doubt any mothers would have liked coming in to find their daughters cavorting with naked strangers.”

Thor relaxed a little. Loki was always careful. And his warnings were not always personal jabs. “I hoped that it would not have gone that far.”

“They were a very determined bunch of young ladies—I came along just in time to defend your honour then.”

“Perhaps so.” Thor changed the topic as they reached the road where the buildings of Nuovo Puerto started to thin out. “And perhaps we should not stay so far away now that we are trying to seek employment in this town.”

Loki looked at him sharply. “What do you have in mind?”

What Thor had in mind was a slightly dilapidated but empty single-storied dwelling with actual rooms. The door did not lock and there was dust everywhere, but it was a step up from the shed. Loki agreed to it immediately and Thor knew that they both had been sorely discomfited by their exile.

The reason for Loki’s continued good mood soon became apparent as he drew a book out from its plastic wrappings. Apparently he had found a guide on how to read Midgardian English starting from the individual symbols.

So absorbed was Loki in his book that he did not notice when Thor slipped out and returned with a pair of chairs. Perfectly functional and whole chairs that he set down in front of Loki.

“Sit,” Thor said. “If you must go back to school, at least do not look as though you are sat on the nursery room floor.”

“Wherever did you find these?” Loki actually looked surprised for once.

“An elderly couple wanted to be rid of them. I merely helped them move some furniture during my lunch hour.” A good deed had come a long way for the Pendletons had offered to drive the furniture out to be disposed of so long as Thor did the actual lifting.

“So you already had your eye on a larger dwelling already.”

But Loki did not complain as he helped with the table and the bedframe that had been disposed of just outside their temporary abode. The Pendletons had got rid of the mattress as well. Thor tested it out after they had set everything up.

“Still functional,” he said. “A bit small, but these Midgardians seem to like compact sizes.”

He would have moved over, but for Loki’s hand pressing him back down to the bed. With an audible sigh, Loki climbed on top of him and Thor settled his hands on his hips as the first frisson of desire pulsed through them both. 

They were rightfully tired by working like mortals in mortal bodies, but it did not stop them as they struggled out of their shop-worn Midgardian clothing. What Loki took such pains to hide from the mortals was now on display as Thor encased both their cocks with his hands.

“So you suspect that Midgardians know not of this?” he asked as he slid a finger into the moistening slit behind Loki’s balls, causing him to gasp quietly.

“I doubt it. To them, I’m just male,” Loki said, rocking himself against Thor’s hands, Thor’s fingers and Thor’s cock. “Just another man--for all that they think I’m from some place over the sea called--ah--England.”

Why Loki still had both sets of genitalia as a mortal was a mystery for another day. Thor occupied himself with rubbing the sensitive nub that swelled slightly under his ministrations--it made Loki pant and arch his back, which only served to make him harder. 

Loki shook his head minutely when Thor slipped another finger inside him. _No, not in there_. He guided Thor to the tight ring of muscle further back and let his fingers ease him open with the slippery substance he had liberated from his place of employment.

Thor understood why Loki would rather not get pregnant while exiled on Midgard--there were too many things left to chance here. But they never had a problem with this particular part of their marriage.

Not even while on a strange world as Loki sank down slowly onto Thor’s erection and proceeded to ride him slowly, drawing out both their pleasure until he spilled his seed into Thor’s hands and wrung his climax from him with a hoarse groan.

It was not an apology or an appreciation, because Loki did not do apologies or thanks, but it was enough for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re both hot though,” Linnie sighed when the two brothers left the laundromat.

“Yeah, but they totally caught on at the end,” Jennifer said. “On the plus side, at least I know they’re not going to tell on me to mom for having you guys over.”

“Hey, about that . . . we didn’t get any homework done and Mrs Collins is going to have our asses if we don’t turn in that assignment tomorrow,” Sarah pointed out. “So we better get online and search for the mating habits of birds like our butts are on fire.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norse gods and Frost Giants have needs too.


	7. Interlude: Binding Oaths

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They came in great pomp and splendour, gleaming gold and silver against the ice of the causeway leading up to the gates. Their horses wore some sort of heavy shoes to prevent them from slipping. The Prince’s honour guard were armoured richly and cloaked in rich furs--one score of them had been permitted to escort Thor to his handfasting in Jötunheim and they moved with perfect timing.

Somewhere in the realm of Asgard, their Guardian was watching this parade. Perhaps there was even an army waiting in readiness in case something did go wrong . . . much like how Laufey had his troops watching and guarding the route from the Bifrost site to the stronghold. Loki could not find it in him to blame them, for it was known that factions on both sides did not approve of this alliance and many would be happy to see it fail.

Amongst the ranks of the Asgardian cohort rode the golden prince and Odin All-Father. Even if he had not been briefed, Loki would have known that the blond, bearded Aesir in the red cloak and carrying the mighty Mjölnir was a prince. His arrogance--or perhaps it was just the air of absolute certainty about him--was more a part of him than his armour and he rode as though he had been born in a saddle. Unused to the pinkish hue of their smooth faces decorated with facial hair, Loki supposed that Thor was not unpleasing to look at or atypical for his race. 

The slayer of giants was dwarfed by most of the full-sized Jötunns, but there was power in him, barely leashed as he gazed at the assembled guard of honour. It was some sort of elemental mastery, much like the ice that Loki’s people wielded, but more like a storm held in check.

More wizened but no less imposing than his son, Odin All-Father caught Loki’s eye and held his attention for this was the premier sorcerer of the Realms. He had hung on the World Tree, spoken to witches and bargained with the Vanir for his knowledge of the arcane. The magic or seiðr as the Aesir knew it was strong about him, but it was muted in a way that spoke of a much deeper level of control.

“Hail, Odin All-Father.” Laufey was still regal despite his lack of ornamentation or armour and Loki felt a pang of pride for all that his dam and king had accomplished despite being on the losing end of the great war. Even on their horses, the Asgardians were dwarfed by the likes of Fárbauti and Helblindi.

“Hail, Laufey-King. I have brought my firstborn before you so that the terms of our agreement shall be met.” At this signal, Thor dismounted, a wooden chest in his hands.

“And I present my firstborn before you to seal the pact, All-Father.”

Loki moved mechanically down the steps to present his gift--the bracers and the white fur cloak--and received a gold torque and a pair of beautifully balanced daggers in return. They were definitely Dwarf-made and very fine.

Their responses were formal and stilted, as befitting two individuals who had never set eyes on each other until that moment. Loki put the torque around his neck and let a servant belt the knives around his waist to signify that the gifts had been exchanged and accepted. Now the Aesir were officially a wedding party and guests of the King.

They moved side by side into Laufey’s stronghold, flanked by their honour guard and led by their respective Kings. Loki had a chance to speak to his future spouse briefly for he had opted to guide the Asgardians to their temporary lodgings and it was only fitting that a prince would lead a king.

In the heart of the stronghold, near the vastness of the feasting hall, was an ice lodge of some size--large enough for twenty Jötnar and hopefully spacious enough whatever the Asgardians were used to.

“I hope that the accommodations are to your satisfaction, All-Father, Prince Thor.”

“You do us honour, Prince Loki,” Odin said, his expression seemingly fixed in a neutral mask. “I have but one question, but Laufey-King assures me that you already have the answer.”

Loki nodded and concentrated. Before his prospective spouse and father-in-law, he changed, the blood in his veins heating to match his Aesir form. “In this shape, my touch and skin will not burn your people.”

“You are a powerful sorcerer. I am satisfied.” Odin actually seemed pleased and Loki bowed to hide his confusion. But of course, the All-Father was also a sorcerer and Loki felt a momentary connection with another magic user who could appreciate the nuances.

“A word of praise from you is worth more than all the accolades from the Nine Realms, All-Father. My sire also invites you and your son to view the entertainment in the courtyard in an hour’s time.”

The Prince just stared until Odin nudged him discreetly and he bowed in turn. Loki reverted to his natural form and answered a few more questions before leaving to prepare for the events that would preclude the ceremony that very night.

The need for haste was not unseemly because the Asgardians would not tarry too long in a potentially hostile realm and there would be more opportunities if anyone wanted to upset the handfasting.

Take the martial arts display that Fárbauti was leading. They had not chosen to go to the river to watch the ice-breaking or the flat plains to exhibit the extremely dangerous sport of frost-warg herding because of the six thousand and one things that could have gone wrong if they had gone with a full programme over several days.

But because it was a _royal_ marriage, the need for ceremony had to be fulfilled. In Utgard, surrounded by every possible safeguard Laufey could think of.

Which was why Fárbauti was holding a sort of event in the largest courtyard. There would be wrestling, duelling with ice-spears and displays of strength for their guests’ entertainment. 

Their sire’s strength remained unquestioned as he broke ice slabs as large as he was. Helblindi took on three wrestlers consecutively. Býleistr showed his skill at shattering clay targets with his ice bolts. And then it was Loki’s turn.

Blindfolded, he stood before Býleistr with no weapons in his hands. Without warning, Býleistr loosed his ice bolts at Loki, each shard well over a foot long and pointed at the tip. Ice formed at Loki’s fingertips as he concentrated . . . and sharp ice darts shot out as his hands moved to shatter each of his brother’s larger spikes.

When he was younger, Loki had learned how to hold his own against larger and possibly stronger opponents. _Without_ sorcery. Very few underestimated his skill now even if very few found merit in challenging someone smaller.

There was applause from the Asgardian contingent, who appreciated the physicality of the entertainment. Then Prince Thor mentioned casually that he would not mind joining in.

Helblindi was game for more wrestling and it was generally thought that it would be a good idea to see this prince in action. Unspoken was the fact that the Asgardian prince had not fought for the right to marry Laufey’s uncontested firstborn--an issue that tradition had little precedent for. 

Loki subconsciously held his breath as the tension mounted. Friendly competition was one thing, but competition between two formerly warring races was another thing altogether.

Five minutes into the match and Thor had lost his tunic. After ten minutes, Helblindi was sporting a broken nose from a particularly skilful move that had allowed Thor to slam his head into the ground. But as Helblindi’s head was as hard as the bedrock under Utgard, it did not slow him down significantly.

If Loki was not used to the brutality of his people’s sport, he would have found it difficult to watch his younger brother and his intended spouse beat seven different kinds of hell out of each other. It was still bloody, bare-fisted and rough.

The Asgardians lost some of their reserve and started cheering as loudly as the Jötunns whenever their prince managed to flip Helblindi. Odin was oddly unmoved by this spectacle, standing in stark contrast to Fárbauti, who was cheerfully egging his second-born on as they grappled. There were no submission holds in Jötnar wrestling and no off-limit body-parts.

Almost an hour later, Thor managed to stun Helblindi into momentary unconsciousness. The Asgardian prince did not look that steady on his feet and fell to his knees once the official had checked that Helblindi was out of it. But he was applauded all the same for it was a good fight by the standards of both races--messy, long and requiring at least one opponent to be out cold at the end.

And then the prince had approximately two hours to recover and bathe before the handfasting ceremony. A temporary sweat-lodge had been erected by the Asgardians, much to the bemusement of the Frost Giants.

“They are very amusing,” Fárbauti said to Loki as he surveyed this custom of the Aesir. “Though I fear for tonight if your prince is not functional after jumping into the stream.”

At Loki’s blank look, Fárbauti had to explain certain aspects of Aesir biology to him. They watched in fascination as the Aesir plunged themselves into ice-cold water after emerging dripping from the steamy confines of the sweat-lodge. The cold water certainly had an interesting effect . . . which was why they found it strange that the Aesir participated in this ritual so enthusiastically and swore vehemently so when they plunged into the water.

As it turned out, the Aesir mended almost as quickly as the Jötnar. Loki was not on hand to see the conclusion of Prince Thor’s sweat bath, but his intended appeared hale and hearty at the handfasting later in the evening.

It was a simple ceremony--just one solemn binding promise. Wearing his pale-skinned, warm-blooded form under the white fur cloak, Loki stood in full view of witnesses from both races and a handful of dignitaries with Prince Thor. They drank snowmelt from the same goblet and exchanged the symbols of fertility and binding. It was the feasting, singing and chanting after that that took time.

Whole boar turned on spits over pits of coals along with local meats and imported mead flowed freely. Massive plates of fish jostled alongside baskets of Asgardian fruit. Their Aesir guests had brought more gifts for the celebration--a shrewd move that would soften the more belligerent chiefs and safeguard their feasting.

The best singers sang and contested each other for entertainment. The Asgardians seemed to find the tales sung uproariously amusing and the arm-wrestling contests began. Seated in the place of honour with his new spouse, Loki wondered what the visitors would think of what followed the contests.

Then Fárbauti got up and strode to the centre of the hall to sing. Loki found himself unwontedly sentimental as his sire recounted his courting of his dam. Smiting and sex were very close to his parent’s heart.

He spoke briefly with Prince Thor, who had a rumbling bass voice that could be heard clearly even when he was in a private conversation. His spouse seemed to be amused, bemused and puzzled in turn by the entertainment. He was fully recovered from the wrestling, which boded well for later.

The post-feast wrestling grew more . . . physical around the feasting hall and Laufey stood up at last to give his blessing to their coupling. Odin All-Father stood as well, his expression reflecting no surprise at the local customs. 

The Jötnar and the Asgardians, already well-soaked and probably quite randy, whooped loudly enough to shake the rafters.

“Brace yourself,” Loki muttered to the Prince as they were dragged out of their seats. “They would see us mated.”

“Truly in public?” His surprise would have been amusing if Loki had not had similar qualms. Odin’s son had been briefed, but obviously had not expected this particular custom to be realised.

“Fortunately, arrangements have been made,” Loki said as they were borne away by the raucous crowd. He felt a flutter of anticipation in his belly--lower and closer to his loins.

A chamber had been prepared for this--carpeted and sporting a bed of furs and cushions. It was also lit with small lanterns and boasted of a coal brazier for warmth--such alien comforts, but Loki supposed that they would be glad of it later.

Loki was permitted to seal them in with a thin wall of ice for a modicum of privacy and he could already feel the eyes of his new husband on his back. It was a terrible time to have an attack of the nerves.

So he magicked his leather breeches and cloak away and hid in audacity by presenting himself on the bed of furs.

Perhaps it had been a bit too much for the Aesir prince for Thor’s gaze instantaneously fastened on the space between his thighs.

Frozen in place, they both regarded each other in what was probably mutual nervousness. Thor broke the stalemate first by moving forward and setting his hammer aside. He finally dragged his eyes up to Loki’s face as he crouched down before him.

“Prince--Loki . . . No offense to you, but this is slightly new to me,” he began carefully. “Have you done this before?”

“Did you expect me to be a virgin?” Loki asked. He could hear his sire in his head now. _One virgin in bed is bad enough--two is one too many._

“No . . .”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No--”

“Then I think this will work,” Loki said, forcing himself to relax. “Fingers and tongues only . . . that was all I could manage.”

He was only _technically_ a virgin.

“Should I use my tongue on you?” Loki asked as he reached for the fastenings of Thor’s breeches, daring to make the first move. The prince did not flinch away. In fact, he laid a hand on Loki’s thigh. The warmth from that point of contact almost made Loki jump.

“We start things a little more slowly where I’m from,” Thor said. “If you don’t mind . . .”

And when Loki indicated that he did not mind, Thor shed his jerkin and undertunic before leaning over to kiss him. They tried the kissing thing for a while, graduating to open-mouthed exploration. It was . . . pleasant. Thor had some experience with drawing out pleasure with his tongue and teeth. While Loki’s people were not averse to biting during the act itself, they seldom nibbled at erogenous zones in this manner.

Even more pleasant was the rubbing of Thor’s naked chest on his skin and the still-clothed knee between his legs. Loki moaned impatiently into Thor’s mouth as he tugged at the breeches that still remained between them.

Thor asked for a little more time, the hairs of his beard tickling Loki’s chin as he spoke. Loki lay back on the furs as his body was mapped by broad, callused hands. Maddeningly, Thor’s hands did not touch his hardening cock . . . skirting past it to slip into the moist folds of his cunt.

Loki made what he hoped was encouraging noises as he felt every single callus on those fingers as they rubbed against his clit and circled the pearl-like nub, sending tremors of sensation through him. 

And then Thor ducked down and applied his mouth between his thighs, making Loki gasp in surprise and lust as sparks tinted his vision.

The Odinson was rather experienced in this area as well. Loki could barely even think straight as Thor kissed his clit the way he did his mouth, sucking and probing lightly with his tongue. Everything was so warm now--his skin, his cock, his clit with Thor’s hot mouth on it, teasing whimpers out of his panting mouth. 

Loki was practically writhing on his back, hips arcing upwards for more when he realised that he wanted much, much more.

He tugged at Thor’s hair even though he did not truly want him to stop, snaking his leg between them and stroking the bulge in the prince’s leather breeches with one bare foot. Thor was hard and ready if Loki was any judge of it.

“There’s oil,” Loki said. He concealed his disappointment at the loss of contact by reaching for the vial of specially prepared balm as Thor pulled away to take his breeches off. Ambergris and the fat of the great whales, combined together to make an aphrodisiac unguent.

The oil warmed quickly against his new flesh even as Thor’s fingers massaged it between his legs. Loki managed to keep his wits about him and did the same for Thor’s impressive member. It was an improvement over what he had seen of the Asgardians that afternoon at the sweat-lodge, certainly. His finger and thumb could barely circle the girth and Loki felt the slightest twinge of trepidation at the thought of that cock stretching him and filling him up . . . along with a massive surge of desire.

Something of his nervousness might have shown, for Thor looked him in the face as he asked him how he would prefer it.

“In here?” Thor asked as he pushed his oiled finger inwards. “Or here?”

Loki felt the puckered ring of muscle lower down being stroked, then probed lightly. He could just about nod in agreement before he was distracted by the sensation of Thor’s finger sliding into him and opening him up.

“More,” he murmured, hoping that Thor would understand. To accommodate that cock, he would need at least three fingers. A second finger joined the first inside him, pressing down in a place that made Loki’s thoughts scatter into incoherency.

He was so close as Thor fucked him with three fingers while stroking his clitoris at the same time. But he held on with years of hard-learned control. 

“Now--in me now!” he demanded. Thor withdrew his hands to get more oil and Loki pushed himself up on his hands and knees, his own cock bobbing erect between his thighs and yearning for touch--any touch to finish him off.

Those callused hands parted his buttocks as their owner settled behind his thighs, opening the way for the thick head of his cock. Thor was going slowly to avoid splitting him open, a fact Loki was glad for as he was stretched and filled by degrees.

By the Norns, he could feel the _veins_ in Thor’s cock, throbbing deep inside him as the Aesir prince was finally completely sheathed in his ass. By that time, Loki was aware that he was panting and sweating with the exertion and the semi-pleasurable and yet burning sensation of being filled to capacity. For the first time. Murmuring something to him--Loki did not quite hear the words--Thor stroked his back as he adjusted to the sheer size of the cock inside him.

“Move,” he muttered through his teeth as he held himself steady on his knees. “Please move--“

The movement of Thor’s cock pulling out and pushing back into him made him clench his fists. But the burning sensation soon faded into the background as Thor started to settle into a rhythm and his cock found the place inside him that sent waves of pleasure coursing through his veins every time it brushed or rubbed the right way.

Heedless of whoever might be listening in, Loki cried out as he was filled again and again, shamelessly grinding back against Thor’s bulk. He was soon aware of little beyond the cock in his ass, the hands on his hips and the back-and-forth movement of his body that made his erect penis sway pendulously under him. 

A warm hand reached around him and closed around his leaking cock, bringing him out of his lust-addled reverie. _At last . . ._ He must have moaned out something, some affirmative or encouragement, but he did not remember what it was as his own hand slipped between his legs to finger his clit.

Faster and faster--their hands moving in concert against the slap of their thighs until Loki’s back arched up, limbs and muscles rigid for a split-second before his body convulsed with the strength of his orgasm.

The world went red, then black and red again as he came, thick strands of his seed coating his chest and thighs even as his inner muscles clamped down on Thor’s cock. Loki's mind was blessedly empty in the white-hot heat of that moment. Then there was another burst of liquid heat within him and he dimly realised that they had both achieved climax before his arms gave way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing porn > Editing your own porn.


	8. Day Forty-Five: Great Expectations

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They might be in the Witness Protection Programme or something,” Jennifer speculated over potato chips and maths assignments. It was the weekly laundry run for one particular pair of newcomers to town. It was also group-homework-time for Jennifer and company.

“You watch too much tv,” Linnie said. “Now concentrate or we’ll never get this assignment done on time.”

“Yeah--don’t people in the Witness Protection Programme have like a minder or someone to watch them?” Sarah asked as she reached for another chip. “Unless you think Mr. Anderson at the bar and grill and the Wus at the Golden Phoenix are all secretly working for the FBI or the government. And your mom and dad too.”

“That’s ridiculous--Dad doesn’t even get any contracts from the military bases. They do their own laundry in-house,” Jennifer said loftily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rachel, how’s business?” Dale nodded at his fellow restaurateur and British transplant who was having something called a Date Night with her husband at the bar and grill.

“Lunch specials are always good business. That guy you sent over is great, but we won’t have space once Rita gets back from Palm Springs. Or was it Vegas?” Rachel Wu’s brow furrowed for a split-second as she poked at her Tequila Sunrise with a straw. “Anyhow, he’ll be missed. I don’t even know if he’s sticking around town . . .”

“They do look like they belong somewhere else,” Dale agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki recorded the days.

He had scrounged paper and stolen the odd pen or pencil that the mortals liked to leave on convenient flat surfaces to fill up their innumerable forms. The accounts of the days spent here were written in sparse runes, probably alien and unreadable to the locals.

Thor’s record of the number of days spent on this world was written on another expanse of wall. In Midgardian symbols that they had learned to count in. There was little harm in it for all that his writing looked like a child’s scrawl in the earlier days.

Loki needed to count for purposes of his own. When it was time, there were certain Midgardian items he had to purchase after some research in some of their shops. They would be difficult to shoplift anyway. Not that Thor would let him.

Thor was rather adamant about paying their own way. Even if they had to work for every dime to pay for the clothes on their backs and the food in their bellies.

Their dwelling place, now furnished with odds and ends of furniture that the humans did not require, was still three barely furnished rooms in a single-storied house that used to be empty. There was no running water or electricity as it had been _cut off from the main grid_ when the previous occupants moved. Loki and Thor made do with candles and drawing water in buckets from any spigot they could find.

The technical Midgardian term was _squatting_ \--a most apt term for exiles crouching on the edge of a small town in the state of New Mexico. The country was America, just one of many countries in the round sphere that was “Planet Earth” to the Midgardians.

That much they learned from the sheets of newsprint that people threw away every day. They were learning so much, and yet not quite enough.

There had been another argument back then, when the issue to learning how to read Midgardian English was an issue. 

_“We might be here for longer than you think,” Loki said. The fruits of his search lay before him--paper, writing implements and the teaching aids he had bought._

_“It is not that long . . . for us, I mean.”_

_Loki did know what he meant . . . but it was different when they were trapped in mortal bodies. He almost did not miss his magic. Almost, but the loss of it was almost as bad as losing the ice and the winter._

_He supposed that Thor missed his elemental powers as well. Which was why he was often irritable, like today, with his brows drawn together like the thunder clouds he could no longer summon._

_“It’s just some new symbols . . . Think of it as a way to pass the time,” Loki said, feeling his own patience wearing thin._

_“I would rather find a way to end this exile.” Thor threw his hands up in exasperation._

_Loki did not want to point out the obvious, but there it was. “You don’t know what is required to end this banishment.”_

_“Do you?”_

_“No. That is why I’m preparing for it. It’s the most logical thing to do.”_

_And Thor had stalked out of the room, the door banging shut in his wake. It would stick, as usual._

_That was then. But when Thor returned and instead of pacing the room like a testy lion, he had sat down again._

_“You are right. There is no knowing how long we will be in exile.”_

_Completely nonplussed, Loki recovered from his mild shock long enough to push over a pencil._

_“Perhaps we should ask for a sign,” he said, half in jest. “I thought to write a message and attempt to send it back.”_

_“I would write a missive in the sands of yonder desert. But Heimdall probably does not require such dramatic antics to catch his attention.” Thor looked down at the paper and pens contemplatively. “It is not being seen and heard that I am worried about.”_

_No, Thor seldom had to worry about that, Loki knew. But whether his sire, Odin All-Father, was in a forgiving mood was another thing altogether. The shame of it all--the one and only royal son in disgrace and in exile._

_“His temper will cool eventually.” Loki had to believe that, or else lose all hope of having his magic back again._

_“Perhaps.” Thor did not look very optimistic. “Show me this Midgardian alphabet again.”_

The sex after that was good and Loki was getting used to--no, accustomed to--sex twice or three times a week. They had discovered the Midgardian penchant for sex and the accompanying lubricants that worked much better than the shampoo liberated from the employee bathroom of the Golden Phoenix. Prophylactics--condoms--were high on the list of things Loki was keen on purchasing when they had money enough for extras.

Loki remembered that the sex after all their disagreements back in Asgard was usually athletic and satisfying. As if everything they really wanted to say to each other was in the push and pull of their bodies.

The memory of it made his cock stir as the predawn light illuminated their room--the days were long at this time of the year. He was in that particular lethargic state that came before actual wakefulness and not inclined to move much.

It was warm in the cramped confines of the bed and no matter how exasperating he was at times, Thor made an excellent space-heater. Loki hated feeling cold. It was the most alien sensation. One that he was not supposed to feel. At all. While it was still summer here, the nights in this land were chilly.

Which was why he was loathe to move despite his arousal. Thor did not snore when he slept on his side, but Loki could feel the muscled bulk of his body vibrating gently behind him. And the familiar shape of a hardening penis pressing against his rear.

“Mmmn . . .” Loki’s half-hearted protest was usually about the prickling sensation of stubble against his neck. His hand reached up blindly to tangle itself in Thor’s hair. Rightly interpreting this as a positive sign, Thor slid his arm around Loki’s’ torso, tracing the flat planes of his abdomen down to where his half-hard cock was looking for attention.

Half-awake, they shifted against each other, gradually becoming fully aroused and more aware. Not having sleepwear to dispose of, it was relatively easy for Thor to find Loki’s cock even without opening his eyes. Loki felt himself growing wet and fumbled for the small lubricant bottle that sat on the floor beside their barely adequate bed.

Applying some of the liquid between his thighs to ease the way, Loki opened his legs long enough for Thor to slip his erect member between them and start to thrust languidly.

The slow slide of that cock against his clit brought forth a pleasurable friction. Closing his eyes, Loki squeezed his thighs, eliciting a groan from Thor and causing him to break his rhythm before continuing to move.

Thrusting into the warm hand that encircled his manhood, Loki gave voice to his pleasure as they rutted against each other and spent themselves breathlessly even as their solitary alarm clock showed that it was seven in the morning.

And then it was time to rise and start another day. Which usually began with washing off the traces of their early morning activities and getting dressed before walking into town for breakfast.

Thor had decided that pancakes were the absolute pinnacle of Midgardian cuisine and Loki had decided that socialisation would help them adapt to this alien world. On most days, they ate at the diner that had a convenient television mounted on the wall and very large breakfast specials that could satisfy Thor’s stomach.

After Loki had his fill of the morning news and Thor of eggs, bacon, pancakes and sausages, they either went to their appointed jobs or hunted for work.

The temporary employment was running dry as more people returned from their vacations. The college students and younger generation took most of the work that required familiarity on the cash registers and Migdardian machines called _computers_.

There was also something else they realised about the nature of Migdardian employment--it was a commodity that was jealously guarded and even policed. Temporary workers might be off the books sometimes because of something complicated involving taxation and work permits, but there was a high chance that it was illegal.

Apparently, not having the right papers could make people illegal. Loki had overheard the Wus discussing the matter of a work visa for a distant cousin from another country. Not to mention a passport. So many documents to justify a person's presence in this world . . . Getting married to foreign royalty had been relatively uncomplicated when compared to the Midgardian love of paperwork.

There were pieces of paper for that too--marriage being legally binding and massively important for the humans as they included “marital status” in a lot of forms. The man Dale Anderson was divorced from his wife, who still resided somewhere in the city of his birth across the sea. They were still on good terms from the way they spoke on the telephone device. And they had a pair of grown children too. Loki was only somewhat mollified to learn that the (usually male) breadwinner of the family had to pay for the children's upkeep if a divorce took place.

Eavesdropping had usually served him well in Laufey’s fortress and Loki never saw the point of stopping, especially when he needed the information.

But it was Thor’s information he was working on now, for a van driver called Luis had passed on a particular bit of information at the backdoor of the laundry place. 

There was a construction yard on the edge of the town. Piles of sand and building materials were stored within. According to Luis, there was a man there they could talk to by the name of Juan. Loki was not entirely sure about trusting this Luis, but he was going to do the talking anyway.

When they reached the yard, there was just a security guard and one other man in the office. He had dark wavy hair, dark eyes and no handy employee’s nametag, unfortunately for them.

Acting on a hunch, Loki approached the man minding the office and asked for Juan.

“You can call me Juan,” the man said at last. “You looking for work?”

“Yes . . . and very few questions.” 

Later, Loki would realise that the way he spoke would immediately place him in a different social strata than the Juans of the world--as out of place in this town as a Jötun prince in Asgard. Even more, perhaps. But for now, he kept his expression hopeful and his posture non-threatening. The scruffiness of his jeans and the seriousness in his eyes might have convinced Juan eventually for he nodded slowly.

“Okay. Okay--be at the yard at six am tomorrow. They take whoever shows up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmen Ortega was shelving bottles of mouthwash in the oral and dental hygiene aisle when a customer hailed her.

“Miss?”

Looking up, Carmen smiled at them in the approved of fashion--unforced for once because they were good looking. And wow, the blond one was really _built_. She briefly wondered if they were gay, but realised that they must be shopping for their girlfriends by virtue of being in the feminine hygiene aisle.

“How may I help you, sir?” she asked, bracing herself for the inevitable cluelessness that always followed.

“What’s the difference between _with wings_ and _without wings_?” the dark-haired man asked.

Carmen found that being straightforward usually worked. She was also less likely to crack up if she went by the direct route. “The wings are so that the pad won’t slip around in her underwear. She probably wants the pads with wings--did she write it on your shopping list, sir?”

“Not really,” the dark-haired dude said sheepishly.

“Did she mention any particular brand?”

“. . . The one on sale?”

Carmen chalked up another good deed done as she pointed them at the pads on sale. “You can get one with and one without wings, just in case,” she recommended as they had been polite and kept their hands to themselves. She wished her boyfriend would help with the shopping, but _nooo_ , only beer and beer snacks and “don’t you have an employees’ discount?”

“Thank you, Miss Carmen--you’ve been very helpful.” 

The blond dude gave her an odd look before they headed to the cash registers.

“But Loki, those are for--”

“It doesn’t matter--now where are the coupons I clipped?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The men who turned up at six in the morning were varied lot. They gave no last names either, so Thor and Loki did not appear out of place provided they did not speak much.

Construction work was a lot about carrying heavy loads--Loki said that they only had to look at Thor’s biceps to know that he could manage. True enough, the foreman had included them in his tally and they could earn a daily wage at a work site just a short drive outside the town.

It was also not very legal because of something to do with taxes and permission to work. Thor knew now that the men who showed up were from a several different ethnicities and some did not even speak much Midgardian English. They spoke Spanish, Indian, some Russian and possibly Polish instead according to Loki, who had an ear for languages and was learning to match accents with countries of origin. A lot of them had the look of people who were on a journey to other places. It was the one unifying factor amongst them.

And because they were people with no last names and no permanent addresses, they also congregated where no questions were asked and the beer was cheap at the end of the day.

Someone, possibly Luis’ cousin, did a brisk trade in cheap drinks at the back of a warehouse where the labourers formed a sort of informal social club. A few of the more risk-prone members played card games or diced. Loki had watched them for an evening before joining in the next time they happened to drop in.

Loki’s head and hands had always been quick. He had mastered several Midgardian games over the span of a few days already.

“Your brother . . . he’s trouble,” Juan said as he shook his head. He showed up occasionally to check on some people who might be his kin. Loki thought he was concerned with his labour supply as well. Juan was probably legitimately employed, but helped a number of people find employment in not so legal ways.

“I know it well.” Thor took a swig of his beer, accustomed to the fizzy, watery substance by now, but no more fond of it.

“No--I mean he’s looking for trouble.” Juan jerked his chin in the general direction of the makeshift game table of wooden crates. “If he gets caught scamming other people . . .”

It was about excitement, Thor realised. They had been used to less mundane day-to-day chores. Here, there was no hunting, no travelling on quests and no storms to summon. No magic for Loki to experiment or amuse himself with.

“We’ll be careful.” That was all he could promise, because he doubted that he could control all of his own impulses now.

“And you don’t look like brothers either,” Juan stated, shooting a look at his blond hair. 

Apparently, the Midgardians found their charade less than convincing. There was something about _genetics_ that the young Miss Linette “Linnie” Barnes had explained to them at one point over her biology homework at the laundromat. 

They had amended it to brothers by adoption.

Not having any brothers of his own, Thor had wondered how real brothers behaved. Certainly not by beginning or ending the day by rutting.

_Their increased sexual activity might have been something borne of frustration and need in this time of exile._

_Loki had suggested that they obtain local Midgardian prophylactics so that they could copulate without fear of impregnating him._

_Having no desire to father children so soon, Thor had said so to Loki when he proposed it._

_“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Loki looked half amused and half about go off on one of his rants again. “You’re not the one who is supposed to get pregnant and bear children. My sire and my dam were expecting me to be expecting within a year of the handfasting.”_

_As Thor knew by now, Fárbauti was really that invested in his offspring’s sex life, but Laufey-king had appeared more circumspect. “We . . . the Aesir do not proceed so quickly to parenthood,” he said._

_“Cross-species mating usually . . . catches faster. My race has a tendency towards fertility, as you know already,” Loki said, looking down at his lap. Their recent shopping trip had educated Thor on more aspects of Jötunn biology than he was really comfortable with, but it confirmed the fact that Loki was not pregnant. “My king and dam would expect it of me.”_

_“It’s not expected of you so soon.” Thor felt he had to point out that with their longer-than-Midgardian lifespans, there would be ample time for childbearing later._

_“Your father was wily. Note the exact wording of the alliance--until I prove my fertility and bear children, the terms of that agreement are not fully met,” Loki said with a wry twitch of his lips. “Even my people would not disagree with those terms. Marriages have been dissolved due to the lack of children before.”_

_Remembering the absolute premium the Jötnar placed on fertility, Thor could well believe it. But behind Loki’s bravado lurked a very real fear. Mortals bore children, true enough--mortal women. Being neither human, female or actually a mortal, Loki’s reproductive capabilities were in question._

_“They used to be afraid I wouldn’t be able to carry a child to term,” Loki muttered, somehow addressing Thor and his abdomen at the same time. “Now I’m afraid I can’t do it like this.”_

_Not without killing himself--those were the unspoken words that even Thor could hear. Mortal women, Aesir and Jötunn had died from childbirth even while in their normal forms._

And so they were both in agreement for once--they were not having children on Midgard. 

Practically speaking, it was not even about their former station. Their humble dwelling was no place to raise a child and they knew next to nothing about childbirth to begin with. Loki going into labour here, in this place, was a nightmare neither of them wanted to bring into reality. Loki feared that the Midgardians and their hospitals were not able to help--or worse, that they would look upon him as a freak of nature.

Caught between familial expectations and their current circumstances, it was fortunate that the menial labour tired them out on most days, for they were restless and on edge most of the time.

The frustration still manifested in their arguments and the odd fits of pique. At least it was limited to Loki lifting a few nails from the work site these days. Thor finished his beer and collected Loki from his games. Loki was usually willing to leave, the dark glitter in his eyes promising of more to come later that night.

What they never expected was a knock on their door one night some weeks into their exile. They froze at the noise--no mean feat for Loki’s legs were clamped around Thor’s waist and Thor was pushing him up against the wall.

“Thor? It’s Sif,” came the muffled voice from outside. “Hogun’s with me.”

The speed at which they untangled themselves was commendable. They were still dressed at least, so they were just slightly dishevelled when they opened the door by removing the wedge of wood that served as the only security device they had.

Hogun was studiously looking over their shoulders, but the slight colour in Sif’s cheeks made it clear that they had overheard enough before knocking politely at the door.

“Sif! Hogun! What news, good friends?” Thor cried out, barely able to contain himself. It was the solemn look on their faces that made him pause.

“Thor . . . I’m sorry,” Sif murmured. She could not quite keep the sadness out of her eyes as she looked at him. “We asked for leave to bring you this news from Asgard.”

“The All-Father has succumbed to the Odin-Sleep,” Hogun said matter-of-factly.

Thor felt his heart dropping like a lead weight at their words. “I . . . Friends, I must thank you for coming all this way . . .” he managed to say after a long silence. 

But he felt lost, like a ship cast adrift. It was Loki who ushered them all inside and demanded an explanation after shutting the door.

In the flickering candle-light, they had to explain the Odin-Sleep to Loki, who had only heard rumours of it in his studies of sorcery.

It was the strain of using seiðr the way he did. That was the price of his knowledge and power. Hogun, being a foreigner from another Realm, had only seen it happen once in his time in Asgard, but Sif could recall a time when the Odin-Sleep had lasted for five years.

The result was still the same though. Only Odin’s hand could undo Odin’s workings. The sorcery that made them human could only be lifted by the All-Father. The matter of their exile was in Frigga’s hands now.

Thor experienced it all in a daze. The timing . . . was more than unfortunate. And what of the Realm Eternal now?

“My mother, she is regent?” Thor asked at last. He had to try to remember that it was not just his father who was out of reach. Asgard was missing its pillar of support. But no, Frigga was not to be underestimated . . . woe betide anyone who questioned her.

“Yes--she rules in your father’s stead.”

“Good. See that she is supported.” Thor turned to look at Loki. “I would have a moment to speak with Loki.”

Hogun took the opportunity to prowl around the house while Sif asked if she could read what Loki had written of their exile.

Loki nodded at her tersely before following Thor outside.

A safe distance away from the house, Thor finally faced Loki in the darkness. “I did not expect this,” he began.

“What does it mean?” Loki asked, bristling like a nervous cat. He suspected, Thor knew.

“It means that this exile might extend until Odin awakes again.”

“And when would that be?” Loki did not shout or rant, which made it even worse.

“I do not know.” And it did gall him greatly to admit it.

The implications sank in and Loki sank with them, crouching on his haunches and breathing hard through his nostrils in the grip of a deep panic. Thor was at a loss to help, for he felt as Loki looked. 

Helpless, unable to fulfil his duties as a prince of Asgard. Powerless, in this mortal shape and without the elements at his control. Without access to the usual channels of seiðr, a sorcerer was practically blind. And Loki had always cherished his control over his shape.

Thor knew not how long they remained outside, in the dark, with only the sound of their own breathing in their ears and the chirrup of insects in the long grass.

Loki unfolded at last, appearing to pull himself together piece by piece. “I will need to write to my dam and king,” he said at last, his voice remote and hollow. “They need to know that certain things will have to be delayed.”

“It will be carried to your parents if my mother gives Hogun and Sif leave to travel to Jötunheim,” Thor promised, knowing that he had little power to do anything if Frigga refused. But Frigga had liked Loki--and it was a small request to ask to write his parents.

“Don’t promise anything,” Loki said, his voice low and even Thor could hear the warning note in it. 

They returned to their dwelling in silence. Hogun and Sif stiffened in response to the tense mood they brought in with them--he lowering the weapon he was cleaning and she folding back the sheaf of papers she was reading warily.

Loki stalked through without a word, heading to his precious store of paper. He had been on cordial terms with Sif, back in Asgard. Hogun, he got along with as much as anyone could get along with taciturn warrior. There was also the common thread of being foreigners in Asgard between them. This situation, however, did not warrant any idle chit-chat.

Thor looked to Hogun and Sif. “If you would tarry a while longer, friends, we will have missives for you to carry back to my mother.”

It took them longer than expected to pen down their brief messages. Some paper went to waste, but in the end, Hogun and Sif had three letters to bear away with them. Thor and Loki did not see them out to the Bifrost site.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dearest mother,_

_I hope this missive finds you well. I know not when I will be free to support you, but know that I will stand ready. I only ask that my friends are able to update us with news from Asgard and news of father’s condition._

_The weather on Midgard continues to be warm as it is high summer here. Loki and I have our disagreements, but I hope to mend them as we find them. I fear that I am not the husband he has hoped to marry. Loki seeks your understanding in the area of his fertility, for he is unsure if he is able to conceive and bear in this form. Please give him leave to send word back to his family, for it must weigh on him to have no contact while in exile._

_Your son,  
Thor_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Lady Frigga, All-Mother,_

_Pardon this rash message, but I would beg a boon of you. I have attached a letter for my dam and king, Laufey of Jötunheim, to explain my absence during this difficult time._

_I also fear that my reproductive capabilities might have changed with this mortal shape. I seek your expertise on this matter again._

_I will keep the oaths I have sworn, to keep and defend my spouse from harm as well as I can._

_Your son-in-law,  
Loki of Asgard and Jötunheim _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_My dam and King,_

_The news of my disgrace and subsequent exile might have reached you by now. I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive my lapse._

_I will succor and support my spouse even in exile despite a temporary hold on reproduction. Please reassure my sire that there is nothing wrong with us biologically._

_Faithfully,  
Loki of Asgard and Jötunheim_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not American and any mistakes I've made are mine alone and probably due to not doing enough research.


	9. Interlude: Ceremonies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blue skin. Thor’s first impression of the Realm of the Frost Giants was that of being watched and blue skin. He felt the eyes upon him when the light of the Bifrost died and left them standing on an ice-strewn peninsula.

In front of a Frost Giant some eleven feet tall. Beside him, Fandral issued a muffled gasp but held his seat on his horse steady. Around them, the Asgardian Honour Guard shifted uneasily, but there was no other motions as their commander appeared unsurprised by this.

“Well-met, Eggther,” Odin said calmly.

“Well-met, All-Father,” the Jötunn said after a brief pause. “Laufey awaits you at Utgard.”

And the Giant returned to his contemplation of the peninsula when they moved on.

That the Jötnar had a guardian was not as surprising as the fact that Odin knew him by name.

They were being watched as they rode to Utgard. Hogun confirmed Thor’s suspicions almost immediately.

“They would have been fools not to ensure that this way is well guarded,” the stoic warrior said, impassive in formal armour for once. “The Frost Giants who do not like the proposed peace have every reason to strike while we are in the open.”

Friendly eyes or not, it was a rather unnerving journey along a road that had been cleared in the ice. They soon came to an incline that lead them up to a slope that switch backed its way up to a plateau.

“Behold--Utgard,” Odin said briefly before spurring his mount onwards.

From their vantage point, the King’s stronghold appeared to be cupped in a hand of glass shards--in reality a fortified set of buildings surrounded by jagged walls of ice. Great ice-bridges spanned a number of ravines that lay along the way to the main gates--architecture both alien and oddly attractive at the same time. The icy arches were both decorative and defensive for it was not possible to cross some of the bridges except in narrow files of two riders abreast.

Utgard’s gates were some twenty feet high, the open archway framing rows of assembled Frost Giants. No armour, just ranks of blue skinned warriors with brief pelts around their waists. No visible weapons, but the Jötunns would not require any with their natural command of the ice.

Standing in front of this formidable display, their king wore no crown and held no sceptre, but his bearing was as regal as the planes of his face were sharp. Those red eyes seemed eternally watchful even as the formalities were being observed.

When they were finally introduced, Thor saw that Laufey’s son could almost match his height, but other than that, he was as alien as the rest of his race.

The whorls and ridges seemed to be unique markings amongst the Jötnar. Red eyes were the norm, but Loki was definitely not the norm in terms of size. Though there were Frost Giants who were not as tall as Fárbauti, consort of Laufey, they were often broader in the shoulders than Thor. 

His spouse-to-be was leaner and shorter than his kin. Bare-chested and in soft leather breeches, Loki had accepted the golden torque and knives gracefully. His liquid movements made him stand out even more amidst the honour guard of Frost Giants. 

Thor was relieved of the sumptuous fur cloak and bracers by Fandral acting as his valet. He promptly swapped his cloak and bracers for the gifts so that Thor might move as a prince and not like a ham-handed idiot juggling gifts. They were fine gifts, he had to admit as the Aesir were guided into Laufey-king’s fortified city.

Loki Laufeyson himself brought them to a spacious hall that would serve as their accommodations. Laufey’s rather well-spoken son, Thor realised as he watched his father converse with him and then his startling transformation.

It brought home the fact that Loki was a sorcerer and Odin seemed to approve of the way he had changed his form without apparent effort.

"Will such a glamour hold?" Thor asked when his prospective spouse had departed in his Jötunn form.

In matters of magic and seiðr, Odin was a master and he was patient with those who did not understand its workings. "It is no glamour--a Frost Giant's touch would burn us without special spells or charms to ward our skin. Loki Laufeyson has changed the very nature of his cells so that he might dwell among us. Illusions cannot be husbanded."

 _That_ particular matter again . . .

"So it is to be here then? In public?" Thor asked. He was rather conflicted at the moment, but his head and his loins both agreed that Loki made a very attractive sight when he was disguised as a bare-chested Aesir in those skin-hugging breeches.

Odin spared him an amused look. "The Jötnarr have their own marriage traditions--you have been briefed on some of them but I believe they mean to brief you even more. It is a serious matter for them because it binds a couple together for child-rearing."

"But surely begetting a child--"

"Is the easy part, but birthing and taking care of a child is not. Frigga would have my beard if I did not tell you that." Odin glanced around to check that none of the Honour Guard were within earshot. "Mothers are the same everywhere. The Frost Giants are no different. But they are a pragmatic people and so when Fárbauti became Laufey-king's official consort, it meant that he has sworn to help to raise the children he sired. And possibly others he has not sired."

"So his children are--"

"Thor, the Frost Giants fight for the mates they desire to couple with. As far as I know, Fárbauti is undefeated. In a way, they are also ensuring that the strongest breed and the children will be cared for."

Before their journey into Jötunheim, Thor had been shocked to learn that Odin technically had the right to mate with Laufey after defeating the Jötunns in battle. Not just mate--sire a child on him if he had wanted to.

While rape and pillage were often the by-products of war, the Frost Giants' approach to defeat was . . . very pragmatic.

But then Thor was learning that the Frost Giants were, as a whole, a very pragmatic people. It had not escaped his notice that Laufey's firstborn, shorter than average among his own kind, was exactly the right height and size . . . if he were Aesir. And he could shift his shape into a guise that Thor would not find out of place in halls of Asgard.

As Odin had implied, the Jötnar wanted their Casket back very badly indeed.

"But _would_ you have done it?" Thor had asked his father, incredulous at the past’s potential for shocking him.

Odin had shot him a withering, yet mildly alarmed look. "Thor--I'm sworn to Frigga and like most men, I value my balls. Even the Frost Giants tread carefully where marriage and childbirth is concerned. Don't mention that again."

And so the right to marry and mate had been passed onto Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson. Loki _Laufeyjarson_ \--descended from his dam's royal line and sired by Fárbauti the Striker. Jötunheim's royal family had an unbroken line of succession stretching back to Ymir. It was really quite simple--future princes were always born from the loins of their kings, ensuring that there was no contention over their legitimacy.

It did not matter that any Frost Giant might challenge another for his mate. Or that a brave soul might approach a married Jötunn to try his luck. Even their King was fair game.

"But Fárbauti is a berserker and even when the red mist is not upon him, he is capable of removing a challenger's head from his shoulders with one arm," Odin told Thor as they moved to the courtyard where numerous Jötnar sparred and wrestled. Fárbauti and his sons would be there as well to lead the Frost Giants in a display of martial arts. "He is also known as a jealous consort. So they're fairly certain that Fárbauti is Loki's sire, if you were wondering how to address him." 

Seeing Fárbauti demonstrate his strength by splitting ice slabs as large as he was with a single blow, Thor could believe it. His sons were no slouches either as Helblindi floored three opponents in wrestling and Býleistr was a true marksman. As it turned out, Loki was just as skilled.

Truly, the Jötunns were similar to the Aesir in certain ways.

The unspoken words hung between father and son now. _But Thor had not fought for the right to Laufey’s son. His possibly undersized spouse._

"Do I have to challenge someone then? A whole pack of them?" For Loki was a prince and surely the line of suitors would be long . . .

Odin looked thoughtful. "You may be asked to challenge one of his brothers. A supposedly friendly spar, but they will be watching you."

Testing his mettle and seeing for themselves what Asgardians were made of. That was more like it.

"Then I will challenge the taller brother." If they were in Jötunheim and he was going through with the handfasting, Thor supposed that he should adhere to their hosts’ customs. Especially when it was something that he could do rather than follow along as his fate was decided for him.

"Helblindi. Do not kill him or maim him unnecessarily--he is still Loki’s brother. The ones who are defeated are usually left alive to remember their failure and this is supposed to be a friendly competition."

So Thor left his hammer behind with his father and wrestled Laufey's second son before the eyes of the assembled Frost Giants in the courtyard. The rules were exceedingly simple--they would wrestle until one of them could pin the other or one of them could no longer bestir themselves. 

After almost an hour, Thor sank to his knees beside the prone form of the second prince, exhausted. But at least he was victorious and they looked upon him with some respect for his skills. Loki Laufeyson's face, however, was carefully blank when Thor spied him among the watchers through the sweat-dampened tangles of his hair. 

But he had little time to think, for he had only hours left before the nuptials. A hasty bath and a quick steam in the sweat-lodge later, he was towelling himself off when Odin entered with a pair of stooped Frost Giants.

“Good Elders, here is my son,” Odin introduced them as though said son was not standing there mostly naked.

They were certainly venerable by Frost Giant standards, all seamed and scarred up close. And they did come close. Very, very close.

“Part of their customs, Thor,” Odin said when Thor would have backed away. “They are only assessing your fitness and fertility.”

By that point, Thor would not have been surprised if they had whipped out a measuring stick.

They looked him up and down and appeared to sniff at him at one point. Apparently satisfied, they said something to Odin before leaving the room. As if their leaving had signalled something else, Fárbauti strode in soon after.

“Hail, All-Father, Thor Odinson . . . future son-in-law, is that how you say it?” the giant asked.

“If you would have me, good sir,” Thor managed to say despite the fact that he was clad only in a towel in the presence of his father and the probable sire of his fiancé.

“Oh I would not do that to my son, handsome as you are,” Fárbauti said with what passed for a smile for Frost Giants. “I’ve retired from kidnapping fine young Aesir like yourself.”

If that was Fárbauti doing the Jötunn equivalent of batting his eyelashes at him . . , Thor felt like running away.

“Loki is considered shy amongst our people, but a little patience would help,” the royal consort continued cheerfully. “I’m sure he’ll become more mellow . . . after a child or two.”

It was like a bucket of cold water to the face at that point as Thor was forcibly reminded of the fact that this was not a marriage in name but a union that was expected to bear fruit.

Alas, the opportunities for running away had passed.

“Eventually, I suppose?” he said after a long pause in which Odin looked at him pointedly.

“You are fertile, correct? The Elders have examined you and you appear to be a virile member of your race. Healthy too, judging from how you’ve healed up quickly,” Fárbauti said in that forthright way of his. “I assure you that my son is not sterile--he just hasn’t had the chance to prove it.”

“That is good to know,” Odin said, possibly to rescue Thor from acute embarrassment. “My son has not sired any children yet, as my wife and I would like to ensure a clear line of succession and not too many contenders for the throne.”

Or not.

“It is so messy when paternal lineage has to be considered.” Fárbauti looked as amused as a Frost Giant could be. “I have no idea how you sort yourselves out.”

“We manage.”

“Oh we’ve heard about how you’ve _managed_ , All-Father.” There might have been something of a wink in there. “It’s a shame, but I would not dare go up against your lovely wife for a night with you.”

“Don’t mention it to her--she’ll get ideas,” Odin replied.

“But it was such a good idea,” Fárbauti said wistfully. “She’s more than welcome to join in.”

Thor absolutely did not see Fárbauti flirting with Odin. Or propose that his parents have a threesome with him. That was what he was going to tell himself for a long time after Laufey’s consort left them. But not before he had asked a number of forward questions on his sex life.

“What was _that_ about?” Thor asked when he could finally dress in peace. It was going to be difficult to look his father in the eye for a while.

“A test. Congratulations, you passed,” Odin said, handing a small earthenware pot containing a flowering sprig. “This is from your mother’s gardens and now a symbol of your fertility.”

His father then opened the chest containing the exquisitely-wrought silver armband--a symbol of the solemn oaths that would hold him and his new spouse. Just two items to be exchanged to bind the royal lines of two Realms. One for binding and one for the promise of offspring.

Any one of Laufey's offspring could bear an heir of the royal line, so long as he was fertile. And so Laufey could allow his firstborn son to beget half-Aesir children as collateral for the Casket.

Realisation struck Thor then as he put what he had seen together with the facts at hand. "They seek to ensure _Loki's_ fertility as well by marrying him to our house?"

"Yes, Thor--a fortunate coincidence. For them, I mean. Loki Laufeyson is an unfortunate outlier in his people's eyes. Few would wish to mate with him and he is unproven in their society until he has borne children. Birthing a fully Jötunn babe might prove to be his ending." Odin held the armband up to the light as if to examine the excellent work. Loki would hold its twin until the ceremony. "Laufey and Fárbauti are still parents who would rather not see their child pass before his time."

"They take many pains to ensure that children will result," Thor said as he hefted the small plant.

"The most numerous prayers are for healthy offspring from the men and women of Midgard and several other Realms--just ask your mother," Odin said as he set the armband back in its box. "More than the prayers for the strength to cleave your enemy's skull in two cleanly, believe you me."

"Mother will help?" It was not so much of a question but an entreaty.

Odin’s single eye blinked at him in a kind fashion. "She'll definitely try. We are old enough to be grandparents, she has told me often enough. Now put on those bracers--it is almost time."

With that particular meeting hanging over his head, Thor prepared to wed.

He barely even heard Volstagg whispering comforting advice into his ear--most of which might not even apply in this case--as he moved to stand before the important witnesses and dignitaries. Even the Fire Giants had sent along an emissary, cloaked and ringed by spells to protect its fiery skin from the eternal winter.

Loki Laufeyson stood opposite him, still blue and bare-chested with the gold torque around his neck. Still unreadable as ever.

The symbol of fertility that Loki bore was another small pot containing the only flowering plant Thor had seen so far. The pale little plant sometimes known as _immortalis_ grew despite the ice, blooming annually and earning it the sobriquet of Winter’s Heart.

They drank of water taken from the ice on Jötunheim’s sacred peak, exchanged their plants and wedding armbands, then swore themselves to defending and fending for the products of their union.

And that was it.

If the cheering was a little muted, it was disguised by the drumming that the Frost Giants started up as the ceremony concluded and the feasting began.

Seated in the place of honour with his new spouse, Thor did not drink as much as he used to. Loki Laufeyson did not appear to drink at all, but he had taken over the duties of their servitor holding the ewers of wine and mead.

As promised, Loki was not as forward as his sire. A boon and a drawback when it came to making conversation in the middle of a loud celebration. Copious amounts of alcohol had made everyone more lively.

“Will you not drink?” he asked.

“I’m not used to drinking,” Loki said. “But do not stint yourself, Odinson.”

“Call me Thor.” He hefted the carafe of wine. “A toast then. It is a custom of ours.”

There was a momentary hesitation before Loki allowed his goblet to be filled. And they were temporarily interrupted by the singing, courtesy of Loki’s sire.

Fárbauti had a deep voice that he used to great effect as he sang of his battle to win the right to mate with Laufey. The great Frost Giant was definitely looking at Laufey as he concluded his song.

__

_I, Fárbauti, striker from the north,_  
 _Do pledge to thee my troth,_  
 _And the strength of my arms._  
 _In my arms wilt thou kindle,_  
 _Grow and prosper,_  
 _And bring forth fire into the icy world._

"That was very stirring," Thor had to admit. "Very poetic."

"Actually, that last part is about how he sired me," Loki said. "I mean, look at us--we've no need of fire."

Thor looked back at Laufey and Fárbauti--they were indeed sharing rather fond looks. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with this intimacy and turned to Loki, who did not appear perturbed by his sire singing about his getting. "So it is meant to be romantic as well?"

"It's apparently the most romantic song composed in the past thousand years if everyone is to be believed. But then again, no-one's going to critique it within hearing range of my sire, are they?" Loki asked sardonically. He too had a mighty father before him, but Thor wished that Loki was not so prickly and sly with his words. It would make conversation hard for he seldom had witty things to say.

Whether it was Fárbauti’s poetic talents or just the effects of the mead and wine, the mood of the feasting had became . . . decidedly amorous. It took Thor a while to notice that the wrestling had turned into something else altogether.

The Frost Giants were rutting. In public. While not a shy individual at heart, Thor was rather taken back by the display.

He was also wondering how he was supposed to perform in public as Laufey and Odin stood up to conclude the feasting and bless their union. 

“Brace yourself,” Loki muttered to him as they were dragged out of their seats. “They would see us mated.”

“Truly in public?” Thor asked.

“We know that this is not your way. As a concession, they will allow me to seal us in a nuptial chamber,” Loki whispered to him. They were led along a corridor that opened up to a cave-like room lit with small lanterns. The floor was carpeted and the walls hung with tapestries. Right in the middle of the floor was a pile of cushions and thick furs larger than his bed in Asgard.

Loki gestured at the entrance way and ice formed instantaneously, creating a wall between the room and the revellers outside. 

And this, Thor supposed, was where they would both be tested before they were considered well and truly wedded in the eyes of Loki’s people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	10. Day Forty-Seven: In Sickness And In Health

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki could not linger indoors for long that night after Sif and Hogun had departed. He slipped out and Thor did not follow. He supposed that Thor would mourn the fact that his sire was in a sort of magical coma . . . Loki did not know what to say to that at the moment and he would rather not have a flaming row with someone while their parents were indisposed.

Even though said parent had exiled them to a strange world.

He had _admired_ Odin for his mastery of seiðr. He had _wanted_ to learn from him. He had wanted that man--his father-in-law--to approve of him. Now all Loki could think about was how Odin’s magic had transformed them and Odin’s decree had stranded them on Midgard. With Odin’s son. And Frigga might not be rescinding that decree anytime soon.

But Thor was her son too. If she did not yield even for him, then they were stranded.

Leaning against the peeling wall of the dwelling that faced the desert beyond the town, he stared unseeingly into the night and felt the pangs of actual homesickness for the first time. He had been too busy trying to adapt after the wedding to actually miss home, but being on Midgard had left him with ample time to miss the things that he had taken for granted.

He slid down to sit on the ground, wondering when he would know the song of winter within him again, the cool burn of seiðr in his veins. Possibly anytime from months to _years_ , they said . . .

A few years were nothing to an Asgardian or a Jötunn--akin to a few days to the Midgardians. But they were neither Aesir or Jötnar here--just mortal. Would they age like the humans as well?

These thoughts did not sit well with Loki, but he must have dozed off eventually for the next thing he knew, he was waking up in bed. As he was not prone to sleep-walking, Thor had probably dragged him indoors at some point. 

He still could not bring himself to speak to Thor. Dragging themselves off to work was better than sitting around thinking about the obvious issue between them.

Fortunately for them both, Thor had to leave early for the work site while Loki was not required at the Chinese restaurant until later for someone had taken a few days of leave at the last minute.

He preferred the air-conditioned environs of the Golden Phoenix anyway--working outdoors had made them both realise that Loki was terribly prone to sunburn. He would turn red and his skin would start to hurt within an hour.

But that day, he felt slightly dizzy as he waited tables at the restaurant. His throat felt itchy and hot and there was something wrong with his nose . . .

At the end of the lunch shift, the irritation in his nose increased and he sneezed just outside the employees’ locker room. Shocked, for it was the first time he had ever had that reaction, Loki could only stand there like a stunned deer.

“Hey, are you okay?” Rachel Wu bustled out of the kitchen and looked him over. “You looked kinda peaky. I mean you look . . . pale and sick.”

“Doesn’t he look pale? I mean paler than usual?” Rachel asked her battle-axe of a mother-in-law, who unbent for three seconds to admit that he did look under the weather.

The others were of a mind that he had contracted a virus. “Probably that family with the dribbly kids. Germ factories, all of them.”

Loki was sent off with a container of chicken soup and an admonition to rest. They would not require him for the dinner shift. 

Of a practical nature himself, Loki understood that a sick member of staff was more of a liability than anything else. And the thought of being ill was rather frightening and strange. Colds and the flu did not affect the Jötnar. And why was he host to a local viral parasite anyway?

A familiar voice hailed him from a side-street. “Hey neighbour.”

The Sandwich-Man, who might be called Joe on some days, nodded at him over the rim of a large box he was carrying. He did not seem very keen on parting with his real name and it was no use questioning people who might be touched in the head. They had learned that he called people that he was familiar with “neighbour”. Seeing as possibly-Joe might not have a fixed address, he might be a neighbour to most people in this small town.

“You don’t look so good,” Joe observed as he shuffled closer. “Looks like you’re coming down with a cold.”

Was his state so obvious that even not-quite-there-Joe could tell? Loki never really knew what to say to the human even when he was not feeling ill. The fact that he was on familiar terms with a human was stranger still.

“Better get some rest,” Joe continued to dispense advice as he moved on with his box. Joe collected things--they were never sure what he collected but everyone seemed to let him be or ignore him. 

The laundry had a collection of discarded sheets and towels that were thriftily saved and given to charitable organisations. No-one noticed when one or two items went missing every week. So they did not lack for linens, which came in handy when Loki started sneezing again that night.

Loki decided that being ill was _disgusting_. Being host to some Midgardian pathogen offended him on so many levels. He had to sneeze into a towel as his nose was leaking like an old faucet. Thor took his advice and slept in the other room to prevent them both from becoming infected.

By the next morning, it was obvious that he was too sick to go out, much less argue with Thor.

“You are unwell. I will fetch a healer for you,” Thor said as he surveyed the red-nosed, watery-eyed spectre hunched up on the bed.

“They don’t have healers--they have _doctors_ ,” Loki informed him nasally from his blanket and sheet cocoon. “And most people go to doctors, not the other way ‘round.”

“Then we shall go to the doctor’s. We have some money to utilise,” Thor said. The only advantage of their current dwelling was that they did not have the rent and the electricity bills that all the Midgardian adults moaned about on a daily basis. Thor had become rather good at basic Midgardian mathematics. “At least fifty of these American dollars. And then some for the medicine.”

Loki remained silent for a while as he clamped another towel over his dripping nose. Doctors implied an examination that might be a little too much information to share with the Midgardians.

“I like it not. They might require things of us that we cannot provide again.”

Thor opened his mouth, then closed it. He did not look like he was going to debate the point. “I will fetch medicine then.”

“Do you even know what kind to get?” Loki asked hoarsely, sticking his nose out for a moment.

“I do not . . . but I will seek help for they are most responsive to queries.”

And Thor’s smile, in all likelihood. The Midgardian women liked their men tall and polite. Loki had been surprised that two of his co-workers at the Golden Phoenix had tried to drop broad hints in his general direction as well.

Thor had to explain it to him though. “This giving of numbers and asking them to call them is a courting ritual. Since we do not appear to be married, they are trying their luck.”

What strange courting rituals. Loki doubted that the Migardian women knew what they were in for. On Asgard, he had been a curiosity, but definitely the spouse of a prince and hence off-limits. And on Jötunheim . . . well, it had been a long and painfully frustrating adolescence.

Thor left for work and to find whatever medicine the Midgardians had to offer, leaving Loki with a lot of water bottles and a bucket to use as a chamber-pot.

Most of the morning was spent resting. Loki drifted in and out of sleep, feeling congested and tired in turns. Fragmented images jumbled up his thoughts and he thought he was daydreaming when he imagined the faces of his brothers.

A most recognisable set of faces that were growing more solid by the moment now that he came to think about it--

“Brother?” There _were_ faces outside his window. Craggy Frost Giant faces with the ridged lines that were like his own.

“H-Helblindi, Býleistr?” Loki managed to croak out. His disordered thoughts tried to assert themselves several times and failed.

“Greetings, Loki,” his younger brother hailed him from outside. “Our dam sends his condolences.”

Loki sat up and struggled to shove open the obstinate window shutter wider. Helblindi helped when he saw what Loki was trying to do in his uncoordinated fashion. It was fortunate that he did not rip the frame out.

Býleistr moved closer and bent down to sniff at him as he stuck his head out of the window. “You do not smell like the Aesir, brother.”

“Our brother is not well . . . And he smells _human_ ,” Helblindi said, having a better instinct for these things despite being the least intellectual of three brothers.

Loki had to suppress the urge to thank him for stating the obvious. They had come to see him--no doubt the message had been delivered. Frigga and Laufey had been surprisingly free with information.

And Laufey had the Casket with all its powers at his disposal. So his brothers had leave to come see him.

Mystery solved to his satisfaction, Loki leaned his weight on the window frame, sacrificing dignity for comfort. “A mild infestation of some Migardian parasite known as a virus. It will pass.”

“Are you sharing your spouse’s exile?”

“I am, as you can see.”

Býleistr shifted on his great feet. “You only need to ask of it and we will petition Laufey to complain of this to Odin All-Father’s regent.”

“I have some honour left, I will owe up to my mistakes,” Loki said, praying to the gods of chance that there was no-one driving past to notice two Frost Giants bent over in conversation on the shaded side of their ramshackle dwelling. “It will only be for a while.”

In truth, that was not a lie. Not to Býleistr and Helblindi, eight hundred and seventy-five and nine hundred and fifty-one years old respectively.

He would return to see his brothers come of age--he was determined to.

“Can you visit Jötunheim . . . like that?” Helblindi asked, hesitancy showing in his speech and movements. They were both acting cautiously and did not even lean on the walls of the Migardian dwelling. Loki himself must seem especially fragile to them.

“I’m not certain,” Loki admitted. Thor and his compatriots could withstand the cold of Jötunheim because they were Aesir. Mere humans would freeze within the hour. “Not like this.”

“Then we will visit. Though our dam bade us take care not to be seen.” Helblindi looked rather put out that he could not terrorise the humans as his sire had all those centuries ago.

“You will frighten the humans and it will get messy if you are seen,” Loki said, feeling weary again. “They know not of the other Realms and we are the stuff myths and legends to them.”

He suspected that the Midgardians had come a long way from spears and swords as well and would not be so easily cowed. 

“And it is too warm here,” Býleistr complained. “Without the Casket to bring the winter, this place would not be worth conquering.”

It occurred to Loki’s barely functional brain then that his brothers were discomfited by New Mexico’s weather, some sixty of those Migardian degrees over what they were used to. No doubt his brothers were as befuddled as he currently felt.

“No, not worth conquering,” Loki said quickly. “It’s mostly desert around here anyway. And you’ll need an enchantment or a charm to prevent you from suffering the effects of the heat should you come again.”

They would need it to prevent them from accidentally wandering off in the wrong direction, confused and disorientated by the heat. A Frost Giant with heat-stroke in the middle of this small town was an incident even Laufey could not have predicted.

He packed them off quickly, making sure that they were heading in the direction of the desert and not down to the town proper. Loki clung onto the window ledge until he saw the momentary blue spark in the distance that told of their departure via the Casket.

Relieved, he flopped back into bed and drank more water. This was not what he had expected when he had married Thor Odinson.

It was supposed to be . . . well, it had _seemed_ easy in theory. Get married, obtain the Casket, get pregnant, carry the babe to term, maybe have a spare, all sides would be satisfied and he, Loki Laufeyson would have proved himself beyond reproach and he would reign beside his brash spouse, a king in his own right.

But he had thought that he would have his dam's advice and Queen Frigga's knowledge of childbirth to tide him through most of it. It would have been done in Asgard, in his iced-over solar, with a proper midwife and the healers on hand, with him in his natural shape, a number of appointed witnesses and preferably finished within an hour . . .

Which was a lie he could not swallow for his own comfort even if they had not been in exile. There would be _hours_ of labour, according to Laufey’s tales and his own rather harrowing experience witnessing the birth of his youngest brother. But there would have been more experienced people on hand to help. Even the Migardians had midwives and doctors for that sort of thing.

And look at them now--unprepared, unwilling and possibly unable to take that extra step to finish what they had started.

 _No_ , Loki had to believe that he could accomplish it . . . one day. Else it was all for naught. There could be no doubt cast upon their fertility.

Ironically, their exile had become his--their--salvation.

In exile, there would be lesser pressure for them to produce an heir and prove themselves fertile. No loss of face, no loss of honour. 

Even his brothers had looked in askance at their dwelling place, forbearing to call it a _hovel_ , but it had been obvious in their avoidance of the topic. His current shape was another thing altogether. He could see that it bewildered them--that he was not the Loki they had known. Alien and foreign to their senses. Short-lived and vulnerable.

They would carry word to their dam and king of Loki’s exile. How Loki was prone to sickness now that he was practically human. Loki had fought all his life to avoid that label--undersized but not sickly.

When Thor came back with chicken soup as well the drugs known as Benadryl and Claritin, Loki had to grudgingly admit that Thor could be competent when he had to be.

Loki tried one tiny tablet first and when he did not show any adverse reaction within an hour, he moved onto the dosage stated on the packaging. One to two tablets every six hours. Benadryl would make him drowsy.

The Wus had sent him ginseng chicken soup, which became his dinner before he dozed off again. Being ill was inconvenient to say the least. He would avoid this in the future if he could--probably by not falling sleeping outdoors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the shocking news that Hogun and Sif had brought, Thor braced himself for another argument which never came.

The Odin-Sleep had worried him when he was younger and unused to his father’s absence. Thor had not understood the ways of sorcerer-kings. He doubted that he did even now. Ill-timed as it was, it seemed as though his father’s absence was going to impact his future as well.

And Loki’s fate appeared to be tied to his at the moment. He was sorry for that, of course, but Loki was not the sort to accept apologies easily.

Thor had found Loki asleep outside when he finally bestirred himself that night. The prince always looked younger when he slept--unguarded and a lot less angry. He did not wake when Thor brought him back indoors.

There was very little conversation the next morning. They went their separate ways for work--if Thor was not mistaken, Loki actually looked relieved about that. At least there was no blow-up.

Loki’s illness later that night merely underlined that fact that they were as vulnerable as the humans were. 

It was daunting to say the least, for Thor had not been ill for centuries and by the look of it, neither had Loki. But at least they could do something about it. 

Loki’s reticence and his reluctance to go to Midgardian healers bespoke of certain seldom addressed issues. He was wary and possibly uncomfortable with his shape. The Jötunn prince had spent half of his time in Asgard in his own skin, going as far as to convert his solar into an ice-covered cavern.

Thor elected not to press him about doctors. There were apothecaries known as drug stores after all. The problem was, everything in the drug store was alien to him and he had not brought along any of his acquaintances from the work site who might know _something_ about all the bottles and boxes that lined the shelves.

So he threw himself on the mercy of the lady apothecary in the white coat. 

The lady was ever so helpful and he had over-the-counter cold and flu medication without the need for prescriptions.

On his way back that evening, Rachel Wu’s streaked hair bobbed up in his vision. She was almost a foot shorter than he was, but she could make her presence known instantaneously. “Hey, how’s your brother?”

He was used to it by now--the Midgardians’ relaxed greetings and their forward ways--and did not hesitate to answer. “Poorly, good lady.”

“I have just the thing for that,” she said, disappearing through her back door before returning with a thermos. “Ginseng chicken soup--my mother-in-law’s recipe. It can make the dead walk.”

It was a most touching gesture. One that Loki accepted along with the medication at face value.

“You might have to erase the footprints outside,” Loki said at last after the drugs had been tested. “Býleistr and Helblindi were despatched here. Your mother has communicated with my dam.”

So Laufey-king had sent Loki’s brothers here, possibly after their messages had been delivered. The over-sized tracks could be clearly seen in the backyard--something that might not have happened if they had been on Jötunheim. Thor wondered why they had not been waiting to call him out.

“You didn’t go with them,” he stated when he went back indoors after brushing away the giant-sized footprints that trailed off into the desert.

“I didn’t,” Loki said. But he could have. That unspoken fact lay between them like the proverbial elephant in the room.

At that point, even Thor could feel the tenuous bonds between them flexing and stretching with the strain. There was nothing holding Loki here beyond the vows they had made.

And that was that. The Midgardian virus ran its course and Loki recovered within a week. Life appeared to trudge on.

Until something else manifested a few weeks later, in that back alley where he found Loki holding two men at bay with what looked like a box-cutter. 

Juan had dropped the odd warning in his ear across the weeks. It appeared that his fears were being realised.

Thor did not waste time wondering where he had filched the box-cutter from. The wild light in Loki’s eyes meant that he would use any weapon at that moment.

The men were regulars at back-alley games of chance. It could not be called a fight, truly. Thor only stunned them and hoped that they would suffer no more than a headache and learn not to gamble too much with sharp-eyed, fast-fingered con-men.

“Will you move?” Thor demanded when the silence after that stretched a little too long. “And where did you get that from?”

“I have my ways.” Loki made the retractable blade vanish as they hurried through the side streets. “As you well know. It won’t be missed and I can return it any time.”

“You mean you got it from either Anderson’s or the lady Rachel’s storeroom and you were merely borrowing it,” Thor growled. He had learned a few things about how Loki operated here on Midgard. He did not actually steal from the humans he was passingly acquainted with. “We have very few boxes to open.”

“You never know.” The feral look on Loki’s face had not quite disappeared when they finally made it back to their dwelling and back indoors. “At least they are unlikely to make trouble for you--they are leaving this town soon for another city.”

“You are concerned about that _now_?” Thor asked, incredulous. “What about your own safety? And theirs?”

“It’s nothing new. You know what my kind are like. And yours,” Loki added.

“It’s not the same here!”

“It doesn’t change what you have known all your life! You felt it too!” Loki threw up his hands. “You _miss_ it too. Hunting, brawling, fighting and making war--all the things that you were born and bred to do. Didn’t it make your blood boil just now?”

“I don’t think your blood or my blood is well spent when it coats the street,” Thor began slowly, for there was some truth in Loki’s words. “And you should not have cheated them.”

“And why not?” Loki challenged, stepping closer. The room was not large, so they were in close proximity most of the time. “Even in this world, the smarter predators rise on the backs of others.”

“Because they were never raised to be princes.” Thor struggled to find the words. “Most of them are only here to work and make money for themselves and their families.”

“And if I had killed or wounded them, I would still be no better than you, Thor.” Loki’s words were still tipped with malice and brutal truth. “We are not princes here. At least we are no stronger than them now. No more advantages of magic and a mighty hammer. We would be justified to kill them if they attacked us.”

Thor could not say _But you provoked them_. Not when Loki had brought up the past again. 

_Giant-slayer._

“But why should we? The humans believe in change--”

“Because they are a short-lived, self-deluded race of people who think that they actually matter in the grand scheme of things!” Loki snapped at him. “Before this, you would have thought them beneath your notice, much less praise them for their ability to ignore their baser natures! ” 

Loki smiled suddenly as he leaned forwards into Thor’s space. It was not a nice smile.

“Or do you think that by learning from the humans, you will earn back your rightful place? Was that the lesson that your father intended for us?”

“I know not!” Thor almost punched the wall in frustration. “But this is not the way!”

“So when will we know?” Loki’s face was terribly close now. “I grow tired of waiting. And so do you.”

It took a practiced liar to know the truth, Thor was beginning to understand. “Perhaps the lesson is patience.”

“We’ll wind up like the human Joe in time. Maybe he’s the one who’s thinking right.” Loki made an inarticulate noise that might have been a laugh and the kiss he bestowed on Thor had teeth in it.

Their coupling was rough and frantic--certainly not _patient_ in any way. Thor was bleeding from his lips and would have dark bruises on his neck come the morning. Loki fared no better--his back was probably bruised from constant contact with the wall as they rutted.

How long would--could they last like this? Thor was not particularly keen to test their limits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	11. Interlude: Separate Ways

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ice wall was semi-translucent. Shadowy shapes could be seen outside, but this was definitely better than being in the middle of the feasting hall. It was already warmer in the room for a brazier of hot coals stood in a corner, radiating welcome heat.

A moment later, the Jötunn prince changed and Thor was confronted again by his spouse’s magic. Not for the first time, Thor thought that Loki was attractive when he looked like an Aesir.

Without any warning at all, Loki magicked his breeches off and sat on the pile of pelts, long pale legs open as if daring Thor to look. 

It had to be said that no amount of preparation could have prepared any Aesir for the combination of male parts and the definitely female parts just under the sac.

At least this was no blushing bride, Thor thought as he tried to see the positive side of things. Coaxing a virgin was hard work and Thor was not actually one of those who thought it great sport to deflower as many maidens as they could find. It was messy, sometimes tearful and a number did not actually enjoy the encounter. He did not think that Loki Laufeyson was one for shedding tears over losing his virginity though.

But Loki’s eyes told a rather different story when Thor could finally tear his eyes away from just how different the Jötnar were even when transformed into the likeness of his kind. So Thor was not the only one feeling nervous about this. Perhaps Volstagg had been right--a good many couples would be tense if it was their first time with a stranger they had just met and were obligated to copulate with. 

Even Frigga’s explanation had not prepared him for the reality that sat before him in the flesh. Not unattractive flesh at that, Thor thought again even as Loki asked him bluntly if he had experience.

Unlike Loki, Thor had no physical issues hampering his adolescent explorations and more adult trysts. Thor supposed that he was _reasonably_ experienced.

 _Fingers and tongues only._ Mostly unbreached then. Prince Loki might have had a number of lovers who could pleasure him in other ways, but this would be new in other ways.

Loki’s offer to use his mouth was appreciated but Thor liked to take things a little slower. No laces to undo and no petticoats to get through at least, Thor thought, placing a hand on the smooth expanse of thigh presented before him. Loki’s skin was warm and he did not flinch away.

One fine-boned hand reached for the laces of his breeches and Thor felt his pulse speed up. He was used to more foreplay and tried to slow things down a little more. Kissing was something that the Jötunns knew of, but perhaps did not practice very much.

Thor enveloped those pink lips with his own, finding them yielding and challenging all at once. Loki was soon moaning into his mouth, encouraged in part by Thor’s knee between his thighs. He was willing enough for the next part, if the insistent tugging on Thor’s breeches was any indication.

“Patience,” he said in the face of Loki’s growing ardour. It was rare that he was in the position to coach patience. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“It had better be good,” Loki muttered as he lay back down on the furs, allow Thor access to his pale body--his skin was almost luminescent in this light.

Thor was free to explore every inch of that skin--which he did, skipping over the part that was obviously begging for attention. Under Loki’s hardening cock was a slit enclosed in soft folds. Thor gently rubbed against the raised nub and was rewarded with a soft gasp.

“Oo-oh!” Loki’s hips bucked upwards when Thor kissed the moistness between his legs. He was warm down there too and Thor knew he was well on his way to becoming fully hard as he licked Loki’s core while pressing a finger into his tight entrance. He had known the company of many a woman--and a handful of men--who knew exactly what they wanted and they wanted it done well enough to make them scream. The Jötnar would have no cause to say that he was untutored in the arts of lovemaking.

Long fingers grasped his hair as Loki gave voice to his pleasure. Thor knew it was not an act for the watchers’ outside as Loki’s shaft was erect and his clitoris was swollen and engorged from his attentions. So many sensitive erogenous zones . . . no wonder the Jötnar were aroused enough to mate in public. 

However, the prince was not so far gone that he forgot about his partner’s pleasure. Thor was tugged up to face Loki again while one agile foot massaged his cock through the leather of his breeks. “There’s oil.”

Thor managed to get out of his breeches without tripping over them in his haste while Loki brought out a vial of oil.

“Distilled from the testicles of the great whales that roam our seas,” Loki told him as he uncorked the bottle. “It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac,” he said as Thor made a face.

The oil did not smell bad--just a gentle musk without a hint of dead whale. He coated his fingers and smeared a generous portion between Loki’s legs even as nimble fingers slicked his erect member with his. The widening of Loki’s irises when he rubbed oil between his legs was most promising.

“In here?” Thor asked as he pressed his fingers inwards, not ungently because there had been equal amounts of trepidation and anticipation in Loki’s eyes a moment ago. A little pressure a little further back as well. “Or in here?”

“For now, yes,” Loki said and there was something like relief in his eyes. So he had not been taken fully in either of his openings . . . That might be odd for a species as lusty as the Jötunn.

Thor took his time in preparing Loki. It was not just pride in the size of his manhood that made him take care. If they were going to do this on a regular basis, they might as well enjoy it.

The sight of that long and pale neck undulating with every breath was almost as distracting as Loki’s swollen cock. It was fascinating to see that just above where three of his digits were slowly sliding in and out of Loki’s tight hole. Terribly fascinating and arousing. Maybe the whale oil was working after all . . . 

He crooked his three fingers and pressed downwards when he found a particular spot inside his spouse. In terms of biology, Loki had copied the Aesir extremely well. Any listeners would have heard Prince Loki’s moans through the ice walls. Thor felt that he could not last much longer at this rate, but his pride kept him from breaking. Better than Loki come first . . .

He realised that Loki was tugging at his hair and speaking to him. Or yelling at him. “Now! In me now!”

Needing no further goading, Thor sat up on his haunches and poured more oil on his cock while Loki scrambled to turn over onto his hands and knees so that it would be easier for them both. There would be time for other positions later, hopefully.

There was a little resistance at first, but Loki was pushing back against him with ardour and Thor was soon thrusting in and out of that welcoming heat. His hands would leave bruises on Loki’s hips but they did not care as they rutted wantonly on the furs.

Feeling himself nearing the brink, Thor reached down and encountered Loki’s leaking shaft, as hot and ready as his own if not as large. 

“Yes!” Loki hissed as he brought his own hand down to manipulate his clit. “More!”

Thor continued to thrust as he worked Loki’s cock, riding on the waves of pleasure every time he was sheathed inside that tightness.

Loki’s cry when he climaxed was not elegant. Neither was Thor’s as he felt Loki tightening around him and squeezing him until he threw his head back and the world went white with the force of his pleasure.

He opened his eyes again to blackness--the dark mane of Loki’s hair. Loki had collapsed onto the furs under Thor’s weight, but was too breathless to complain. Rolling off his spouse and feeling himself slipping free, Thor thought that he would not mind this part of the marriage at least.

After an interval in which they recovered their breath and some presence of mind, Loki turned his head. Green eyes gleamed at Thor in a predatory fashion from under that mussed up hair.

“ _Again_.”

Thor was only slightly surprised when Loki rose from the furs and planted himself between his legs. All the better to apply a clever mouth and tongue to his cock. It seemed that Jötunn stamina was comparable to his own race's vigour. By the muffled sounds beyond the ice wall, the after-party was well under way and the others were not being idle while their princes made the marriage bed.

"It seems that the guests are enjoying themselves," Loki said, pausing in his ministrations when he noticed Thor regarding the ice wall.

"They don't seem to need the privacy," Thor said hoarsely, his earlier uncertainty fading like mist in the sunshine. He could be charming if he felt like it. "Will you continue?"

Loki kept his eyes on Thor as he licked a long wet stripe up the length of his cock. And then he ducked down and inserted the tip of that wicked tongue into his entrance, causing Thor to writhe in surprised pleasure. It seemed that being technically a virgin did not mean that Loki Laufeyson was new to this sort of thing. And that was the coherent thought Thor had before his head lolled back onto the furs, not really whimpering in an undignified fashion as Loki teased the sensitive ring with his tongue.

He was so far gone that he only nodded when Loki picked up the vial of oil. The smile that the other prince bestowed on him was . . . breath-taking in its own way. And then Loki's fingers caused Thor to lose his breath again as they flexed inside him.

"I'm not your first, am I?" Loki asked as he slicked himself with more oil. Thor made a note to get more of that oil. Several gallons perhaps. They should start a trade going too.

"No--not unless you mean my first Frost Giant."

"I'm honoured," Loki whispered and pushed into him with a shallow experimental thrust. "Truly."

It burned a little, but Thor shifted to accommodate his new spouse, who was very willing to take his advice on how to take him. Perhaps even this was novel to him and Thor found that he did not mind being a teacher.

The wedding night was going to be longer than they both expected. Not that anyone minded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they had had each in as many of the ways they could manage--except for that one thing but there were ways of getting around that--before collapsing in a pile of twitching limbs, Loki slept, sated. The Odinson dozed off next to him, similarly exhausted by their activities. They should have kept most of Utgard awake at this rate.

A few hours later, attuned to the rhythms of Jötunheim’s day cycle, Loki woke again and felt the effects of their exertions. It was rather novel, he thought as he stretched languidly--he never knew some of those muscles existed. But it would not matter--they would recover in a matter of hours with some food and rest.

It had been obvious that Thor Odinson had other lovers before. Very experienced lovers too. That had been fortunate. Some of those positions had been tricky and completely new, but Loki liked to think that he had made up for the lack of actual experience with enthusiasm.

His thoughts were turning towards food when Fárbauti knocked on the wall. Or rather, he shattered the ice wall with just one tap of his massive fist. There was a congratulatory gleam in his blood-red eyes as he looked in on them. 

“If only I were young again,” Fárbauti sighed as the Odinson woke and tried to cover his privates. Loki threw a cushion at his sire’s head and Fárbauti turned away to give them some privacy. But his laughter echoed around the caves and tunnels.

It was fortunate for Thor Odinson that his sire stood in at the entrance of the ice-cave as he got up and dressed. The Jötunns were not a shy people and some of his generation were actively curious about coupling with an Aesir. There might have been scores of them waiting outside just to have a look--all in the name of making sure that what should have happened had happened.

Loki fancied he knew what Thor was thinking as they emerged from the nuptial chamber to see the large number of Frost Giants peering at them. There really were too many people about and the Odinson’s face coloured a little more. Fárbauti’s presence was invaluable though for he cleared a path for them simply by walking ahead through the tunnels.

A massive breakfast awaited them in the feasting hall. For the Asgardian prince, there was small beer, loaves of bread, cheeses and cold meats sliced thin along with the local specialty of blood sausage. For Loki, there were choice cuts of raw fish to go with preserved vegetables, fish roe and young wine.

A reward for finally accomplishing one of the actual rites of adulthood? Loki was too hungry to take umbrage. They had even set aside the delicate flesh from the cheeks of the great salmon for him. It was his favourite and Loki set to his breakfast with a will. He doubted that they could finish the rich repast even with Thor going at it with Jötunn vigour--the servants would have a treat.

The Frost Giants looked as though they approved of Thor’s appetite though. A number of them stopped by to offer their congratulations and Thor stopped colouring after the first three rather blunt assessments of how long they had kept going last night and into the next day. It was supposed to be complimentary after all.

Breakfast was their only respite. There was the matter of last minute packing to be done for they would be leaving for Asgard later in the day. And the wedding gifts that the loyal tribes had given as tribute. Loki was hauled off to sort through the lot with one of the Asgardian attendants who had the unenviable duty of fitting everything into the baggage train.

After rejecting everything perishable, anything unusable by someone of the same height as an Aesir and things that would have absolutely no use in Asgard, Loki was on fairly good terms with the Asgardian Asolf, who bore his responsibilities with good grace despite the mountain of goods that confronted them. 

Loki packed all the scrolls and tomes that had been given, having had no time to read them before the wedding. The jewels, weapons and armour, they would take. The prized beasts were left behind--they would not survive in an alien climate.

He was kept so busy that he could barely think about how he was going to fare in another Realm. Until he was introduced to his new horse, which he was to ride upon for the final leg of the journey to Asgard.

His name, for it was a male horse, was Aud and Loki supposed that it was a fine mount--all glossy black haunches and spirited, intelligent eyes. This too was a sort of test and Loki tried not to embarrass himself too much before the eyes of the guardsmen who were serving as grooms and the handlers today. These were the people who would carry the first news of the foreign prince to the Asgardian populace after all.

There was a trick to it. A rider did not repose on the horse’s back like a sack of goods so much as balance on its back as it moved or cantered. In his pale-skinned and dark-haired form, Loki was still possessed of excellent balance and muscle control--something he was glad for as Aud tested his new rider to make sure that he was bearing a prince and not some provincial bumpkin. Being trained by a horse was not actually that bad.

Such things occupied him until it was time to unveil the Casket and Loki finally wondered what had become of his newly wedded spouse.

He was informed by a groom that Thor Odinson and a party of Asgardians had gone frost-warg hunting with Helblindi and they were not expected back until well after midday.

That was unexpected. He had not thought that his spouse would share in his interests, much less in the area of sorcery, but surely a future king would need to learn a few things from Odin All-Father? And there were dangers abound with a foreign prince on a warg hunt in the open . . .

Still slightly puzzled, Loki dressed himself in his ceremonial finery again--torque and armband included--and went with the Elders, the unimpeachable witnesses and his sire and dam to the underground cavern that held the Casket.

Odin All-Father, resplendent in his formal armour and bearing Gungnir, arrived when they were arrayed about the glowing centre of the high-ceilinged cavern.

“Hail, Laufey-king. It pleases me to conclude this part of our bargain.” The great staff slammed into the cavern floor with a noise like a thunderclap.

No stranger to dramatics, the All-Father held up his arms as the soft glow intensified and flared into a column of blindingly bright light. The actual seiðr-working under the lightshow was just as fascinating to Loki. It was like a door into another world opening to disgorge a--a thing that _sang_ at them all in a language that they could all understand.

When the light faded, Loki found that he had taken a few steps forwards, mouth open to echo that beautiful song. Every other Frost Giant present had done the same. But it was Laufey who continued forward, arms outstretched, to take hold of the Casket.

It was like a part of him that had been missing all his life had suddenly slotted into place. Loki had no idea if the others felt the same, but from what he could read from their body language, the return of the Casket had been experienced on a visceral level by the Jötunns.

There would be a celebration on the surface as the ripples of this event spread out. Everyone would know. Even the chiefs who held out against Laufey’s overtures would sense it.

So it was witnessed, so it was done. 

Laufey bore the Casket up and out of the cavern, trailed by the Elders and the ambassadors from the other Realms. At the tail end of this procession, Odin All-Father was content to be just another member of the entourage. Loki, who could see a glamour to take the attention off a person when one was employed, lagged behind to speak with the sorcerer who had won the Casket a thousand years ago.

“A dimensional pocket--a most subtle working,” he said to the man who was now his father in law and his liege lord. “The most subtle I’ve ever seen,” he hastened to add in case he sounded too condescending.

“You have a good eye,” Odin said, his single pupil peering at Loki. “I saw you watching the actual trick.”

“It is a preoccupation of mine,” Loki said, feeling more at ease speaking to another sorcerer. “Do you share your knowledge with others like a teacher?”

“Oh? You will learn?” The edge of a smile lingered on Odin’s lips behind that beard of his.

“Yes. There is much I do not even know of.” Realms he had not encountered. “Your son, Thor, does he know of the ways between the worlds?”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Thor’s not a mage,” Odin said at last. “He cannot do what I just did.”

“But surely he could learn?” Loki had to wonder if such things were passed down from father to son, parent to child. It had not been the case with him. The seið had skipped at least a generation or two before finding Loki Laufeyson.

“He can wield the thunder and the might of the storms, aye, but higher mastery of seiðr is not his forte.” _And nor will it be_ , was the unspoken thought that lay between them. “Asgard needs someone else to keep the craft alive.”

Loki supposed that Odin meant that _he_ was going to do it and was extremely flattered.

And then they were caught up in the celebratory whirl above ground. Even the sky seemed brighter now. Helblindi’s hunting party arrived back in the middle of it all, the success of their warg-hunt only adding to the gaiety of it all as the sound of drums echoed throughout the walled city. 

Thor wanted to bring the frost-warg’s head back to Asgard. Everyone was in a terribly good mood and no-one could really see why he should not have the grisly trophy.

And then it was time for the Asgardians to leave, while good will reigned and the Jötunns were predisposed to peace. Loki understood this even as his sire found him in the crowd and clapped him on the back. He knew this as the Asgardians formed up, baggage train, terrible souvenirs and all.

Aud was led up to him, decked out in a fine leather harness decorated with silver. “If my lord would mount, we have a short but mostly downward journey ahead of us.”

It was the first time that Loki found himself in the company of a _woman_ \--the female child-bearing half. _Her_ name was Sif and while she dressed like the warriors and wore weapons like the men, there were some obvious differences. Her voice was higher pitched and she was less muscular, yet more padded out in other places. She was one of Thor’s boon companions, according to what he had seen. They formed part of his honour guard--a wise move from Loki’s perspective for close companions could not be so easily suborned.

Loki remembered to adjust his shape just in time.

Mounting up with the others, Loki met the eyes of his sire and his brothers. They did not have a gesture for farewell--the Jötunns thought that it was good enough if they survived long enough to meet again. Thor and the Asgardians had no such reservations, whooping and waving as they rode out of Utgard. 

As Sif had predicted, it was a short ride to Eggther’s watch-post and Aud navigated the path well. Loki did not get thrown off or take a tumble off the narrow roads.

He took a deep breath as the All-Father bespoke the Guardian of their Realm. It was to be now. The comforting hum at the back of his mind told him that he would bear some part of his world with him now as he ventured far afield.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	12. All Hallow’s Eve (Day One Hundred and Eleven)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The contents of what they called the kitchen were limited to transitory cans of coffee and tinned food. A far cry from the feasts in Asgard and its vast larders.

Loki sometimes joked that if he had been pregnant when they had been thrown out on their ears, the child would surely have expired of malnutrition. 

It was not so funny in hindsight, Thor thought, and Loki knew it.

He had not been a mean spouse, but he had not been exceptionally attentive even by Frost Giant standards. They might as well have lived separate lives after the wedding for they had such disparate interests and conflicting schedules. 

Loki had enjoyed being cloistered with Odin, intrigued by his mage craft. He had spent countless hours in the libraries, reading up on everything he could about Asgard and the other Realms. Even in the art of war--Loki practicing with daggers, learning to use the bow and actually managing to look interested in things like logistic supply trains.

Now Loki practiced reading the nutritional information labels on all the food items in the grocery store as he stacked them whenever they had need of temp staff. He could parrot the alien names now.

_Monosodium glutamate, aspartame, high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, E7 . . ._

Truly not the kind of things you would rear a child on. Not that Thor was any expert on any of it. His way was dyed crimson with the tides of war and his speciality was cutting a bloody swath through enemy lines.

Such paths were also closed to him now.

He thought often about returning to Asgard. To Asgardians and Jötunns, a few years on Midgard would be the merest of minutes--the barest inch of sand in an hourglass, of course. And now every second seemed to stretch out into an eternity.

But there was the matter of being the prince his father wanted him to be. His unfortunately indisposed father.

Most damning of all was his mother’s backing of Odin’s edict. The implication that even she though him too callow and unseasoned. Thor was glad that Asgard had enough counsellors and advisors to shoulder the burden of Odin’s absence. Glad and disheartened for it meant that Asgard could function perfectly well without _Thor_.

His friends were . . . supportive despite everything that had occurred. Sif and the Warriors Three were willing to make the journey to keep him updated on the situation in Asgard around once a month. As were Loki’s brothers, who were mostly cordial to him for all that they looked dubiously at the warm, barren plains of New Mexico and their ramshackle existence on the fringe of a human town. 

They sought to divert him and Loki sometimes. But they were not the ones marooned on Earth. In fact, Thor was confronting the differences from their previous lifestyles on a daily basis.

He had returned to find Loki at home one day, staring morosely at the massive half-frozen fish head on the table. His brothers had no doubt thought to cheer him up with something he liked from home. 

With nothing to cook or store the fish in, it had been an impractical if well-meant present. They had stared at the dripping thing for a while before laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. Then at Loki’s suggestion, they bundled the fish head into several sheets of newsprint and hauled it down to the Golden Phoenix where the terrifying but competent Madam Wu took one look at the thing and declared it was going to be soup.

It made an excellent soup. Even if Loki had to give vague answers about where the fairly fresh fish head came from in the middle of New Mexico and whether another one could be obtained.

But once the humans considered someone “safe”, it was as though a switch had been turned and their innate suspicions would be muted.

Which was why it was all right to bring Sif and Fandral along into town on All Hallow’s Eve--Halloween as they called it now. The sight of two other people in fancy dress would not cause any comment. And Hogun and Volstagg would not be too obvious when they went out to dinner at Loki’s workplace.

It was sort of his semi-official work now. That and filling in for odd jobs at the stores that needed workers for when one of their own took sick. Something about the economy at the moment made it difficult for people to hire permanent staff. 

Of course, this was a good thing for Thor wanted him well away from the construction sites and the temptations there. Thor knew that if challenged to a fight because of his “brother”, he would win and that might be the end of easy friendships and under-the-table work with few questions asked.

On this particular day, Loki had to work overtime again and he was not one for sampling Midgardian brews, preferring to return home or read at the bookstore until it closed. Sif thought that he was overly seriously and said so.

“This is not his ‘scene’ as the Midgardians say,” Thor replied, scanning the crowd of merry-makers who were taking advantage of the Halloween special and the discounted beer on offer. The brightly-lit strip of bars and restaurants were thronging with people--students, residents, passers-by and families either in costume or casually dressed for a night out. The other half of the populace would be at home, preparing for the other Halloween tradition of trick or treat. 

What Loki had to say about the kind of beer at these events might be even less complimentary than Thor’s assessment. And Loki would prefer other ways to trick people that would be less time-consuming and much more subtle than toilet-papering their houses.

“It’s not mine either,” Sif admitted as she stared down a few drunk students who were ogling her breastplate and its contents. It would go very hard for them if they tried anything though. “We should go back to check if Volstagg’s had indigestion by now after too much foreign food.”

Fandral was reluctant to leave for there were sexy witches, sexy pirate wenches, sexy demonesses and all variants of sexy nurses at the bars. But they departed in the end, leaving the crowds of the strip behind them.

“We can buy some beer here,” Thor announced as they passed a convenience store. “Perhaps Volstagg and Hogun would like to sup of the better brews on offer.”

“You mean better than the swill they served from those kegs?” Sif asked sceptically. Thor supposed that they should have gone to some place where the beer was not thin and resembled what happened to beer two hours after consumption, only with added carbonation.

“Hope springs eternal,” Thor said, pushing open the door into the air-conditioned store. The electronic chime sounded as they entered and perused the shelves.

“I must say, the Midgardians are inventive,” Fandral said, peering at the multi-coloured candy on display. As it was Halloween, there were even more gaudy foil wrappers and coloured sweets for sale. “These are all very--” 

Fandral’s words stopped abruptly as he became aware of the silent scene at the end of the aisle where the cash register was.

The presence of disguised humans on Halloween was not strange, Thor had learned earlier. Here were two of them in rubber clown masks. But their weapons were most realistic and the terrified rictus of the cashier’s face told them that they had walked into the middle of a robbery.

 _That_ explained why Thor’s battle senses were screaming at him.

The frozen tableau lasted for the merest of seconds before one armed robber moved to snatch up the bag on the counter and the other moved swiftly for the door.

Then the brigand on the way out did a remarkably foolish thing. He seized Sif’s arm and brandished his weapon threateningly, obviously intending to use her as a hostage to get them both out of the store without Thor or Fandral’s interference.

It was not surprising that any Asgardian shield-maiden would take umbrage at the manhandling of her person. And it was not surprising to Thor and Fandral that Sif’s expression changed from bemusement to outrage--either from the presumption that she was a woman and hence a more ideal hostage or because of the unwanted presence of a hand on her arm. It was certainly a surprise to the robber when he was shaken off like an annoying fly by a woman who was a lot stronger than she looked before he even had a chance to utter threats.

Stumbling backwards, the masked man fell against the transparent panels of the doorway, crying out in shock and alarm.

He must have had a finger on the trigger mechanism as well, for bullets sprayed out as he fell. 

Thor had forgot, of course. Not about the fact that a lot of Midgardians carried weaponry on their persons. Not about the fact that the Midgardians were not all peace-loving and law-abiding citizens either.

Sif was the first to realise it, her face shifting into either a horrified grimace or a shout of warning. Fandral realised a split second later as the bullets impacted into the shelves around them.

Thor did not see Fandral’s mouth open to shout at him, of course. He had been facing the robber closest to the door when Sif had been accosted.

_Duck, you fucking idiot!_

That might have been the message Thor failed to hear from his friends because everything had turned into white noise when the weapon went off.

He did not see the frightened cashier duck under the counter. Or the other would-be robber winged by bullets from his compatriot’s weapon as the glass doors of the refrigerators shattered and rained watery beer on the floor. He missed seeing the bullets impact harmlessly against Fandral’s chest as well, Midgardian steel being of little threat to Aesir flesh.

Thor did see Sif rushing forward at the same time he felt the pain in his upper arm and the sting of several grazes. Then sound returned again and Thor realised that he was sitting on the floor amidst a squishy field of festively-coloured Peeps. 

The whimpering of the robber who had been grazed by his companion’s bullets was halted when Fandral backhanded him into the wall. They both got an arm each over their shoulders and lifted Thor back onto his feet and hurried him out. Sif booted the other masked man in the face as they passed by, muttering about incompetent, foolish robbers in language that Thor had no idea she knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stupid humans and their stupid guns,” Loki hissed between his teeth as he probed Thor’s arm with the long metal pincers.

Thor swore and took another drink from the vodka bottle. Their supply of alcohol was being employed for hasty sterilisation and pain-relief.

“You’re stupid too.” 

Loki was angry. Angry that Thor was foolish enough to get wounded because he had forgot that he was no longer immune to bullets. Angry that he almost had a heart attack when Thor had stumbled in supported between Sif and Fandral. Angry that he had not been there to do his duty despite sticking it out this long. 

“How could you _forget_?”

It had supposed to be an evening out with Thor’s friends on a night when the Midgardians were cheerfully celebrating some pagan custom they did not truly believe in. Hogun and Volstagg had expressed an interest in the local cuisine, so it had not been too difficult to squeeze them in for dinner at the Golden Phoenix--outside seating was temporarily available for busy holidays. Volstagg was probably more attracted by the prospect of tasty local victuals and Loki suspected that Hogun did not particularly like being stared at even if everyone thought he was wearing a costume. Especially if people thought he was wearing a costume. He had to be reassured that “cool costume, dude” was actually a Midgardian compliment.

As they would be safely anonymous--or thought to be celebrants in better costumes--on that particular night, Thor had offered to take them into the town. Loki had declined to go out for he was doing overtime at the Golden Phoenix. They were short-handed as usual. Every time a festive holiday rolled around, people took leave. Granted, the wait-staff who were parents had to take care of their children, who would be wandering around dressed up in supposedly adorable little costumes and accepting sweets from strangers.

Loki privately wondered about the wisdom of this as he helped the woman Rachel give out fortune cookies at the door whenever a posse of children, teenagers and adults wandered past. Actually, he just held the bowl and tried not to roll his eyes as she squealed over the quaint American traditions and the cute costumes. He doubted that the pieces of paper with fortunes like _A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush_ were going to help either for he understood now that no Chinese restaurant actually took those things seriously.

Such strange creatures the Midgardians were. Clinging onto the vestiges of their long forgotten religions while adhering loosely to the much modified rules of their current faiths. He would feel a lot less charitable about them at a later date though.

Fortune cookies aside, Hogun and Volstagg made short work of the roast duck, fritters in sweet and sour sauce, hot-plate bean-curd and vegetables, crispy wontons and fish soup. In a moment of temporary and uncharacteristic kindness, Loki had offered to treat them. He rationalised that Hogun and Volstagg were amongst his less annoying acquaintances. Hogun had always been helpful in his own silent way and Volstagg with his mouth full was better than Volstagg asking him about how it was going between himself and Thor. 

Being married for Volstagg was obviously different. Loki almost envied him for the man had five children--in the process of being spoiled rotten--and a wife who indulged him in return. The woman must have the patience of saint to put up with his adventuring and massive appetite. 

The stoutest of Thor’s inner circle had chuckled at the costumed princesses and tiny superheroes that barely reached his knee and posed for pictures when they clustered around him. Loki hoped that that would not return to haunt them in any way.

Once his shift was over and he had taken advantage of the employee shower again, Loki had intended to go back and read for a while before turning in. Hogun and Volstagg would return after going past their dwelling on the way to where they normally accessed the Bifrost. Thor would come back once he was done carousing with Sif and Fandral. Sif’s presence would keep the carousing to an acceptable level, at least. Fandral would be distracted by some Midgardian wench with a sufficiently low neckline on her sexy witch costume and that would have been it.

And some four hours after they had parted ways that evening, Thor was half-sprawled on the floor of their dwelling, on a mat hastily assembled with an old raincoat and newspapers to catch the blood that leaked from at least three grazes and that one bullet that had lodged in muscles of his upper arm. Fandral’s cloak served as a blanket and would probably be ruined after this.

It must have hurt, Loki knew as he tried to turn Thor’s arm to get a better angle with which to see into the mess of mangled flesh, but Thor was heroically bearing up with it even as Sif and Fandral held his shoulders and legs still so that Loki could perform amateur surgery. _As well he should_ , Loki thought uncharitably.

Loki had only watched the healers do something like this back in Utgard to remove embedded spearheads. Healing was much less messy with magic. Which was not an option here and now because Sif and Fandral had never studied the healing arts and knew little more than he did about field surgery. But Loki had stepped forward to do it because he had not been able to prevent this. 

Rationally, they could not chance going to the nearest hospital or clinic because there would be questions asked. Questions including _how did he get a bullet in him anyway?_ and _have you any identification?_ The local police would be undoubtedly interested in anyone who turned up wounded after tonight.

Thor clamped down on another colourful local curse--undoubtedly learned from their co-workers--as Loki found the metal slug with the pincers and yanked it free of his flesh. He was none too gentle as he applied another splash of alcohol and slapped on a pad of bandages slathered with antiseptic cream hastily bought from the nearest drug store, but Thor suffered his ministrations without further complaint.

Crisis temporarily averted, Sif and Fandral reluctantly left with promises that they would return to check on them. They could not remain for the presence of Asgardians tended to draw attention and there had been edicts against prolonged contact with mortals. The age of the Norse gods had long passed on Earth and it was not wise to remind the humans of what had been and what used to be.

“We should have asked them to send aid,” Loki muttered, wringing out a towel and checking it for bloodstains. “Send _something_ at least.”

“It will be fine,” Thor said, pushing his hair out of his eyes wearily with his good hand. He had been transferred onto their fourth-or-fifth-hand couch. “It was well done considering what you had to work with. What now?”

Loki rubbed his temples as the headache he had been keeping at bay for the past hour returned with a vengeance. He had done as much as he could without his magic. He would help himself to an aspirin later. 

“If anything goes wrong with that wound, if it gets infected, we’ll have to find a doctor who won’t ask questions when enough money is put in his hand,” Loki said at last. “I imagine Juan will know of one.”

“Do we have enough to go to such a doctor?” Even in his current state and with more than half a bottle of vodka in him, Thor knew that the money required for such an endeavour might be substantial.

Their savings were in a cookie tin disguised as a cookie tin in the kitchen. Loki fetched it and they eyed its contents dubiously.

Moving slowly, Thor dug into the pocket of his jeans and produced a wad of crumpled notes to add to the pile--his earnings for the day. After a moment’s hesitation, Loki went to the bathroom and unearthed the packet he kept taped to the back of the cistern.

“Kitchen cabinet. Lowest shelf,” Thor said quietly.

Loki found the small coffee can and did not say anything as he added the money in it to the table. He started counting the bills as Thor leaned back on their sagging couch, the effects of large quantities of alcohol finally taking over.

After a few afternoons at the bookshop, Loki had looked up some first aid and care of gunshot wounds, discreetly purchased painkillers and more antiseptic, bought two sets of false identification from a friend of a friend of Juan’s--Juan’s, not Valdez, who was less trustworthy--and asked about incurious doctors.

There had been some news of the robbery at the convenience store. Precious little footage of the action had been seen on the television for all that the robbers had been on what the newscaster called a “spree” and had hit three convenience stores before meeting up with the Asgardians. Loki had been surprised that they had got that far--Sif’s assessment of the criminals was unflattering. But then again they had been incompetent enough to snatch the wrong kind of hostage and shoot her friend by accident. 

If this was Jötunheim, blood would have been shed. Not for the crime of robbery but for the even greater crime of hurting his spouse. Fárbauti would have hunted them down and pulled their heads off--spinal cords attached and everything--if it had been a member of his family that had been injured. As it was not Jötunheim, the perpetrators’ heads would remain on their stupid shoulders as the local law enforcement took over.

The police were _still investigating_ the matter, as they usually were. But there was always the danger that someone had seen their faces or seen very specific things like bullets not killing Fandral. If things got out of hand, they might even have to move.

Loki did not expect the knock on their door so soon after that incident. Thor had been resting for the past few days, subsisting on Chinese takeout and sandwiches. There had been no wound fever--a fact for which Loki was intensely grateful for. He was really not up to more amateur surgery or the decision to find a human surgeon to perform an amputation if it had gone from bad to worse. 

This time, it was Sif with Hogun at her back again, but they looked a lot more serious as they entered.

“He’s still alive,” he informed them before they could ask.

“And we thank you as his friends. Another wishes to thank you for your care.” She looked incredibly solemn as she presented a small basket to him.

“The Lady Frigga sends this--with her love and fondest regards,” Sif said and Loki realised that this was an _official_ mission for all that she did not call Frigga the Queen.

“We are not to age and wither away, it seems,” Loki said, lifting the pair of apples from the basket carefully. “And that is all? No news of the All-Father’s condition.”

“Trust that I would bring it if there was news to be had,” Sif declared, narrowing her eyes at him. “We are not so cruel as to deprive you both of such information.”

“Forgive me, Lady Sif, but trust is difficult to come by down here even on Midgard,” Loki replied with a bitter laugh.

“Then perhaps it is something to be learned,” she said in a gentler tone. “Now make haste--my Lady Frigga needs to know that her gift has been accepted in full.”

Thor recovered almost instantaneously after consuming his apple--wounds sealing shut and leaving no trace of scars behind. There would be no danger of infection now. The other effects were . . . interesting to say the least. Even Loki felt his mood lift. Along with a few other things.

What the apples of Idunn gave were youth and vitality--along with youth came optimism and along with vitality came the urge to fuck like demented rabbits after the stress of the past few days.

Loki sensed rather than saw Thor’s eyes on him and he could practically feel himself getting moist between his legs as they walked out into the desert with Sif and Hogun. They did not have leave to stay long for their mission--the right to cross the Realms was not a privilege to be taken lightly and they had already visited more than once this month.

Later, of course, they would have the space and time to slake their lust. Loki thought that he was due some relaxation after the franticness of the past few days. It had been a trial, but he still had a living, breathing spouse at the end of it.

“Be well,” Sif bade them before hugging Thor--and Loki to his surprise. She could probably get away with it because she was a woman--Loki noticed that the females in this Realm were similarly inclined to such gestures. Hogun merely gripped their forearms in his gruff way. It was perhaps their way of saying that Thor and Loki were not completely cut off from all they used to know. Loki was unexpectedly touched by it despite himself.

The Bifrost cut through the relatively cloudy night sky when Sif called to Heimdall, churning up dust and sand in a great funnel cloud that obscured its radiance. Thor and Loki had to back away from beam before they were knocked over by the sheer force of the backlash.

All too soon, the light of the Bifrost was replaced by the glare of the headlights of the bulky van that had stopped right in front of them. The noise of the wind had probably masked the vehicle’s approach.

“What the hell just happened?” a loud female voice demanded from somewhere behind those lights. “There were _four_ people there just now!”

“Do you know what this could mean?” another female interrupted, brimming over with eagerness and barely contained excitement. “Actual trans-dimensional travel--”

Loki felt another headache coming on. His libido buried its head in its arms and cried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	13. Interlude: Show and Tell

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the light of the Bifrost cleared and they were standing on solid ground once more, Loki’s eyes were still trying to adjust themselves to the light. He had not known how dark Jötunheim had been in comparison to a Realm where the sun shone down in all its glory. Or perhaps his people had evolved to cope with significantly lower light intensity.

He kept his appearance as one of the Aesir for the journey and the parade held in their honour. Aud had tossed his mane and pranced his way down the causeway like the other horses, neck curved proudly to show off his harness. 

It was so silly that Loki almost laughed, but he confined his mirth to a closed-mouth smile--the baring of teeth was still odd to him as a gesture of happiness rather than say, outright aggression in many situations. 

Someone had stage-managed this event well for they had arrived as the sun was about to set and the Honour Guard was beautifully back-lit by the golden light. There were an inordinate number of people lining the road, cheering and applauding the show even as their curious eyes sought Loki out.

For a show it was with Odin all solemn and stately at the head of the procession, Thor and his new spouse front and centre with the full panoply of their Honour Guard around them. The Asgardians waved and flung garlands at them on the way to the Palace. Loki made a note to himself to adjust his ears--the Aesir had voices with considerably higher registers and it would give him a headache soon.

Even in the Palace, the spectacle continued. They were brought to a wide balcony so that everyone could see them--Thor resplendent in his armour and Loki in his white fur cloak and gifted finery. Loki manfully refrained from eating anyone and waved in a more restrained manner than Thor.

The feasting after that was something like the ones back at home, only with more alcohol and toasting. They had boastful tale-telling instead of singing but it might as well be the same thing. The mention of slaying and fucking was mentioned rather euphemistically in contrast to the parts about the valiant battles.

Perhaps they had to keep the gore to a minimum while they gorged on the extravagant feasts provided. The vast number of dead and spitted carcasses accounted for at least a small farm’s worth of animals. 

In accordance with the Asgardian love of drink, there were eight kinds of beer and seven other kinds of strongly alcoholic tipple. They had even brought back the beer made of fermented fish guts from Jötunheim--Loki normally avoided it like the plague. He had to warn Thor to give it a miss--spouse or not, he was not doing that kissing thing with anyone who had drank that stuff.

Placed prominently on display again, Loki and Thor found little room to speak privately as practically everyone came by to pay their respects and gawk at the foreigner in their midst. As Loki did not appear to be about to rip anyone’s head off and drink mead from their skulls, the Asgardians grew bolder in their appraisal. Like the Frost Giants, the Aesir were no less bashful about staring at the stranger in their midst that their prince had wedded and bedded.

No doubt someone’s grandfather or grandmother had shagged a Frost Giant once and lived to tell the tale.

The limited conversation was awkward as usual, but Thor made a go of it, more often than not talking out of the side of his mouth while keeping a smile plastered on his face as various nobles flocked to congratulate him. 

Loki discovered that Thor had a brash tongue on him as well as a good idea of just who were the sycophants and yes-men of his father’s court. He was not that ignorant after all, merely choosing indifference and his own natural bluster to avoid dealing with such people. Unfortunately for Thor, he would have to deal with them eventually. Or Loki would have to once they overcame the initial distrust of his Jötunn nature.

Unable to comment without foreknowledge, Loki held his tongue and watched despite his growing weariness. Did these people _ever_ tire of celebrating?

They feasted for hours and stumbled to their separate chambers. The Asgardian version of the hand-fasting would be in three days and would last another week. Seeing the amount of alcohol consumed, Loki was not surprised. They needed a day between feasts to get over the hangovers.

Having not consumed his body weight in mead and wine, Loki was not drunk when he sought his bed. But the journey and the long hours of being a centrepiece had worn him out in other ways. He was not sociable by nature, Loki thought as he fell into a dreamless sleep in the luxuriously soft bed--too soft and warm for Frost Giant but comfortable for this other form.

When Loki woke the next morning, he was in a better state to appreciate the high-ceilinged suite of rooms he had been given as his eyes adjusted. Flexing his pale fingers, he was satisfied that he could hold this shape even in his sleep. His original body would have suffered from severe heat exhaustion in this climate.

The Asgardians did not stint on luxury, Loki thought as he lingered in bed for a while before seeking out the bathing chamber. As it turned out, he had a private one, tiled in black marble shot through with sliver. Complete with gold-plated fixtures and a sunken bathing pool that could accommodate a Frost Giant the size of his sire.

Truly, the Aesir had prospered. Would Jötunheim ever reach such heights, Loki wondered as he drew himself an extravagant bath and laced it with the scented oils and unguents he found. He should get used to keeping this skin clean like this--and he might as well enjoy himself while doing it.

Neck-deep in warm water, he reviewed his first day. No babies eaten--good. No burning people by accident--check. Much gracious hand-waving and nodding--done. Not made a drunken sot of himself at the feast--easily done. Not fallen off his horse like a right ninny--he would have to remember to give the horse Aud a treat. Remembered to tell Asolf to send the still dripping frost-warg head to be properly embalmed and stuffed--no-one was going to thank Thor when that awful thing started to smell in Asgard’s warmer climate.

So far, so good.

Breakfast was waiting for him on a table set before the wide balcony of his rooms when he emerged from his bath. Someone had laid out clothing for him--Asgardian style trousers and tunic, of course. Loki was satisfied that they were quietly tasteful and subdued. Not for him the bright red gash of Thor’s cloak--much too noticeable.

To his query, the servitor informed him delicately that most occupants of the Palace were rising rather late that morning. Loki got his drift immediately. No-one wanted to get up for a communal meal with a massive communal hangover.

“My compliments to your cooks,” Loki said before even touching the repast. They had to have used at least three trays to cart this lot in. 

“My lord is too kind,” the servitor murmured. “But we are unsure if it is to your liking. The cooks have not prepared the cuisine of Jötunheim before.”

Loki did not see how the cooks could have got raw fish wrong, but he sat down and tried a little of everything to put the man’s mind at ease. The food was fresh, so the slices of fish were perfectly good with the sauces provided. He had to ask how to eat some of the new dishes set before him, but the server was very willing to guide him. 

The smoked fish in rice porridge was novel, but tasty and he said as much. They had also provided the soft-boiled eggs of some fowl, which were delightful when eaten with toasted bread dipped into their soft centres.

“My praise was not premature, it seems. What is your name?” he asked. It would be a good idea to get along with the servants who actually saw to his comforts and the cleaning of his chambers.

“Kerr, sir.”

“Are you assigned to these rooms, Kerr?”

“It is so, sir. I am also in charge of the servants who clean your rooms and launder your highness’ linens and clothing.” If Kerr was as practical as he looked, then he would suit Loki well.

There was still a lot of breakfast left. By the calculating look in Kerr’s eyes, it was clear that it was not going to waste and Kerr’s family and friends would have the benefit of his position. Some things were the same everywhere and Loki was not going to begrudge the servants their perks.

Loki had Kerr show him the rest of his suite of rooms. There was a handsome study and a receiving room in addition to the bed chamber and bathroom. Round it all off was a solar with a hexagonal dome of glass in the ceiling and high arched windows.

He made a number of noncommittal noises as he was guided through each lavishly appointed room and shown this window latch, that bell-pull to summon the servants and which controls were used to adjust the lighting and temperature of his chambers. 

The rooms were not cluttered with furniture, but the spare nature of each space only served to emphasise the overall grandeur of the Palace. The Aesir really did cover all their door handles and window-frames in gilt and gold. And this suite was situated some seven storeys or more from the ground, girdled about by that marble balcony with a magnificent view of most of the golden city.

“Kerr, I am going to show you something,” he began when the tour was over. “I will revert back to my original form and you should tell the other servants about it so that they would not scream or be alarmed if they ever see me like this.”

Loki had his reasons for this, of course. It was one thing to have the general populace in awe of you, but it was another to have your own servants too frightened to enter your rooms. And his ears were sensitive to boot.

Kerr did not embarrass himself too much when Loki changed, skin rippling and turning blue and ridged. He flinched a little when Loki looked at him with dark red eyes, but did not take fright.

“And you intend to stay like that, sir?” Kerr managed to ask despite the sudden drop in temperature.

“Only when I want to.” For Loki did not intend for the Aesir to forget what he was. Or for his body to forget what it was.

The servant did not flee at the sight of Loki’s teeth, sharper and more pointed than any Asgardians, which spoke well for his nerve.

“Very good, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?” 

“No, just relay what I’ve told you.”

Kerr cleaned up the remains of breakfast while Loki enjoyed the view from the balcony and the cool breeze on his skin. There was no point in being mean to the servants--especially if they gave good service.

In fact his demonstration to Kerr seemed to have produced the _opposite_ reaction in the servants. A veritable parade of them trooped through his quarters that day on some errand or another. No doubt they had placed bets on who would see him in his blue skin first.

“If it pleases your highness, the tailors are here to measure you.”

“Would sir like some refreshments?”

“The master embalmer would like to consult with you about the mounting of the frost-warg’s head . . .”

“Would your highness prefer fresh flowers in his receiving room?”

Loki, formerly of Utgard and Jötunheim, felt that could get used to this. After the wedding, there would be time for a few renovations. And he would have to ask about some place to practice his magic . . . without all these servants walking in on him.

But for now, he had a day of leisure, which he was fully intending to spend doing nothing more strenuous than reading because he suspected that the wedding preparations and the wedding itself were going to take everything out of him.

He was in the middle of a text concerning the marital laws and rituals of the Aesir and a glass of that fruit juice that Kerr had recommended when a maid--what was her name? Haldis?--came in, flower vase in hand and rather breathlessly announced that the Queen was here to see him. 

It was not someone he could send away, so Loki made the appropriate noises to have the lady conducted in.

Frigga, Queen of Asgard and the Odinson’s dam, entered without the train of handmaidens he had glimpsed at the festivities. Although there might have been two of them standing outside like a pair of guards. She sent the maid away with the slightest lift of her eyebrows--a useful trick.

Loki rose from his chair, bowing at the waist in the appropriate fashion. “Your majesty.” 

“Good morning, Prince Loki--I hope that the festivities have not worn you out.” She politely refused his offer of a seat and refreshments. Blond-haired, like the Odinson, Loki noticed, but slighter and possessed of the curves that signified that she was female.

“I abstained from the strongest of the spirits, Your Majesty.” He wondered why the queen had sought him out. Curiosity disguised as concern? Did she wonder just _what_ her son had bedded?

“Very fortunate. Some matters will not wait until after the wedding is over,” Frigga said briskly. “In fact, this one won’t. I know that you and Thor have had to consummate your hand-fasting--I hope it wasn’t too traumatic.”

“I am accustomed to the hand-fastings of my homeland,” Loki said, keeping his voice even. 

“I was talking about dealing with Thor.” Ah, the lady knew her son. “I tried to prepare him, but I can never be sure of how much gets retained.”

“We survived, as you can see. It wasn’t that arduous.” No wonder Thor had the decency to ask. 

What a practical dam he had--it would be wise to stay on her good side. 

“Have you any more questions, majesty?”

“Oh but I have. And you may dispense with the titles,” Frigga said and proceeded to surprise, shock and overwhelm him with her questions.

Loki was embarrassed at first. Then mortified. And finally terribly, terribly grateful.

“Lady, you are wise and I thank you.” He knelt before Frigga and took her hand, relieved that someone had understood and had offered aid unasked. 

“Why ever for?” Frigga asked. “I would offer advice and help to anyone new to the bridal bed. Though I do not think you are the sort to find that duty onerous, Fárbauti’s son.”

“For your willingness to help someone you’ve never met before,” Loki said, taking no umbrage at her frank assessment. He was Jötunn and his kind revelled in carnal pleasure for it was the gift from stingy gods who had given them precious little to enjoy. “And my sire’s reputation is just a little exaggerated.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Frigga said with such a straight face that it took Loki a moment to realise that she was jesting with him.

On the pretext of going on a tour of the Palace, they went to the Healers’ Hall in Asgard, threading through the quiet back ways and servants’ corridors, conveniently avoiding the crowds. He ought to learn from this queen, Loki thought to himself, she was someone to be reckoned with.

The Healers’ Hall was such a calm place that Loki was swiftly put at ease. The healers on duty examined him matter-of-factly, asked a few direct questions and the operation was arranged in minutes.

The queen held his hand when they gave him a mild painkiller, dilated his passage and cut the membrane--which they called a hymen--within him so that there would be no messy tearing and very little pain.

Then they carried on with the tour of the Palace as though nothing had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor woke up in his own bed and remembered that he was married. Oddly enough, it did not feel any different from when he had not been married.

He called for his breakfast and his manservant, well-accustomed to his habits, had a hangover cure mixed and ready for him as well as herbal tea. Thor had not got himself massively drunk last night though. Far too many nobles had come up to their table to offer congratulations and between thanking them and offering his frank assessment of them to Loki, Thor had less time to drink the mead in his goblet.

Although he cringed a little while recalling what had come out of his mouth while they had sat under the bright lights and thousands of eyes in the feasting hall. 

Had he really said that about his former tutor? And the various toadies and flunkies who had come to gawk at the foreign prince and lick his metaphorical boots at the same time . . . well, Thor could safely say that most of them deserved the title.

There would be more of that coming soon. Thor suppressed a groan at the thought of the upcoming wedding in Asgard.

It was to be a show, naturally. _Look at how we can all live together in harmony, never mind how your great granddad lost his head to a Frost Giant in the last war._

Privately, Thor thought that it was going to take a lot more than the pageantry-filled wedding to reconcile some of the more belligerent Asgardians with the idea of having a Frost Giant for a prince. 

Which was why Odin had arranged for this massive wedding, well ahead of the time in which there would be an uproar in the streets when a Frost Giant became the co-ruler of Asgard. A few centuries might soften the old guard a little more. Or perhaps they might be supplanted by the generations who had not lived through the last great war with the Jötunns.

All this Odin had laid out before his son-- _some things had to be done now and not later_.

In that respect, Loki suited Odin’s plans very well. He would remind the old guard of the time when Bor wedded Bestla--when the Jötunns intermarried with the Aesir. There had been many in the past--ones who were fair of face and attractive enough to make the most hardened warriors look twice.

Thor resolved to perform his role without too much fuss. Loki was . . . he seemed content with his part in this marriage--or at least he was putting on a good face for someone who had just been uprooted from his homeland.

After a leisurely breakfast, Thor supposed that he should go make his spouse feel more welcome. 

Only his mother had beaten him to it. The servant at the door of the suite of rooms just down the corridor from Thor’s chambers informed him that the queen had taken his spouse on a tour.

Thor was seldom seen scrambling that quickly to find someone before.

“Thor, I’m so sorry for appropriating Loki for the whole morning,” his mother said in greeting when he finally caught up with them in the stable yards. For all that she was shorter than Thor and Loki, it was clear that she was in charge.

“The Lady Frigga has been most accommodating,” Loki said with the slightly glazed look of anyone who had been the subject of Frigga’s focus for a few hours. In that span of time, she had probably pried his entire life history out of him, discovered a number of private secrets and found out what his favourite colour and food were.

Queen Frigga would succeed where the most seasoned interrogators would have thrown in the towel.

“Thor, be a dear and take Loki on a tour of the city.”

Which meant _get out from underfoot and do your duty or else_. The Queen also commanded her family, handmaidens and all the Palace servants like her own private army. Every single one of them would fall in line at her slightest gesture.

“Yes, Mother.” He did not relish getting involved in the preparations anyhow. There had been too many fittings already for his taste.

Frigga beamed at him and their horses seemed to appear as though summoned by magic, all saddled and ready.

“Is your dam always like that?” Loki asked in bemusement when they were well on the way out of the Palace and not within earshot of anyone who might hear them.

“Always,” Thor said. “It is something to get used to here. Come, I am to give you the grand tour.”

So Thor led the way across the city of his birth, pointing out the important monuments and buildings. He named the parks, the rivers and the lake where there would be swimming in the warm weather. He spoke of the plains outside the city and the forests that he hunted in until he was dredging his memories for the things he had done at various locations.

He was running out of things to say . . .

Eventually, he ended off by showing Loki the mead halls and taverns frequented by his friends. Loki was slightly less impressed by them, but mentioned that he would like to visit them some day.

Thor tried to leave the appropriate pauses where the other person in the conversation would respond and Loki would say something along the lines of _how grand that was_ or _how impressive this was_. He knew it was not polite for someone to call their spouse a liar, but Loki's mind was obviously on other things and Thor finally trailed off, unable to sustain such a conversation any longer.

"It's not your fault. I am feeling envious and out of sorts," Loki said at last. "They were clearing the debris of the great war when I first learned to walk."

To this, Thor had no answer. He remembered how grim Jötunheim had been for all the glacial glory of Utgard.

Loki made short work of the awkward pause with a knife-edged smile. "Give my dam and king some time and perhaps you will visit my home when it is restored to its former glory. Now show me these mead halls and pleasure places."

As it turned out, Jötunheim did not have any bordellos, Loki told him. The Jötnar saw little need to pay for sex, which came as naturally as breathing to them. But if sterile Frost Giants wanted to trade their favours for gifts, allowances could be made.

Loki looked at everything with unabashed curiosity and Thor found himself growing embarrassed for his spouse. And his own reckless youth, which surfaced in the waves and smiles bestowed upon him by the various lovelies of that quarter.

“It’s the Jötunn prince! Come see!”

They hung out of the windows and balconies of their rooms in their wispy finery, waving and calling without shame.

“Oh Prince Thor! Prince Thor, come in! Bring Prince Loki!”

One lady was bolder than the others--she waylaid them and importuned them to come into her parlour for a drink or two. For old times’ sake.

“You are well known here,” Loki said with an amused smirk. He let himself be led off and Thor had no choice but to follow.

Inside some perfumed bower, they were plied with wine and compliments. It was their stock in trade, but the ladies were honestly intrigued by the foreign prince.

“Do all your people look like you? If so we should all hie ourselves to Jötunheim!”

Thor almost choked on his wine at that suggestion, but only the slightest gleam in the corner of Loki’s eye hinted at his merriment.

“Prince, we hear that there are no women amongst the Frost Giants. Is that true?”

“If so, then he’s probably never seen anything like _this_ before.” The speaker thrust out her ample chest--she was practically spilling out of her dress.

Confronted by this fine specimen of Asgardian womanhood, Loki looked at her abundant charms and blinked. "They are . . . very symmetrical?"

This was met by coos and exclamations of how adorable Loki was for it was not often that a man would look upon them with anything other than lust.

Disentangling Loki from the ladies took some doing, but they were eventually on their way, the flowery scent of their hostesses lingering on their clothes.

“How very entertaining.” Loki did look amused--his sharp features crinkling with humour and something else. “I found them more honest than your courtiers . . . Why did you look so constipated throughout it all?”

Thor had to explain that the ladies of this quarter were not quite respectable company. Lively company, certainly, just not the kind to bring back to the Palace.

Loki laughed long and hard at the hypocrisy of it all. “That’s the most ridiculous thing ever. If anyone had the pulse of this Realm, it would be these ladies. And they are only doing another job.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Thor admitted. He had diverted his spouse in an unexpected way, but he could not help but think that Loki had found some sort of parallel between his arranged marriage and the honest courtesans of the pleasure quarter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	14. Not Your Kind of People (Day One Hundred and Twenty-Three)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane Foster had been called obsessed before. Mainly by her ex-boyfriends. And one or two members of her family.

It was the reason why she was camped out in a small New Mexican town, living out of an RV and housing her field office in a former used car dealership.

It was the reason why she had taken the only research assistant available at the university--the others were none too keen on this field assignment, credits or no credits. 

It was the reason why she had invited Erik Selvig to Puente Antiguo based on the evidence she had collected in the past few months after observing certain atmospheric anomalies.

It was why she had driven out into the desert that night after the energy spike had been recorded.

“They come in pairs,” she had explained to the senior astrophysicist over dessert and data spreadsheets at the local diner. “Two spikes in one day. Once or twice a month across the past three months. Always associated with an atmospheric event. I had no firm theory about what the anomalies were until I hit on the idea of monitoring the light spectrum.”

What she had been suggesting all along was that the flares might be light from another source not of this universe or an effect of exotic matter in close proximity with Earth’s gravity field.

Erik Selvig had carefully suggested that her ideas had merit, but whether or not these anomalies were signs of a natural or unnatural dimensional wormhole was up in the air.

Jane was undeterred though.

 _One_ energy spike might mean that another one was due soon. So she had packed Darcy and Erik along with her equipment in the van, hoping to find ground zero of the second spike and measure the radiation levels closer to the source.

Contrary to what some of the townsfolk thought, she was not a storm-chaser. She was after what _caused_ the atmospheric disturbances. She would be extremely embarrassed and apologetic if this did not pan out, but at least Erik was willing to give her ideas a chance.

She was ninety-five percent certain anyway.

Jane had Darcy start the van when they sighted the storm-clouds in the distance, almost more than half-way to the next town of Puerto Nuevo. Her equipment had been calibrated beforehand. Video camera, spectrometers for multiple wavelengths--the whole shebang. Now for the real work to begin . . .

“This is it,” she called to her passengers as the van headed towards the centre of the sand storm. “We’re going in.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They never actually _discussed_ what they would do if someone discovered the truth of their origins.

The humans had their precious logic after all--things like what they termed ‘magic’ and people from other worlds simply did not fit into their world-view. They would be more willing to accept a pair of homeless strangers than two princes of two other Realms in their midst.

At the Bifrost site that night, Loki’s first instinct was to deny everything--the other two figures were just after-images in the dust storm. Human logic would reassert itself again and these people would tell themselves that they _could not_ have seen Sif and Hogun disappear. 

But then there had been the matter of the Bifrost’s imprint on the ground and the damning evidence of the humans’ own eyes. It would take some doing to convince them that they had imagined it all in the darkness.

The second, more sensible instinct told him to walk away from the van. And the curious humans. He did not feel like dealing with them at this time at all. Thor had narrowly missed losing a limb through infection and he was stressed out by the very real danger that they could be injured or even die here.

“Hey! Hello?” The van disgorged a petite woman, torn between curiosity over the alien design at her feet and the rapidly retreating pair. She valued knowledge over personal safety. How daring, yet foolish.

“Darcy, photograph that please!” the woman called over her shoulder as she headed after them.

“Keep walking,” he muttered to Thor. The woman had to jog to keep up with their longer strides--she was that much smaller.

“Hey, we’ll give you a lift back to wherever you want to go?” she offered. “Just tell me what happened back there? There were four people here originally--what just happened?”

“We’ve got it on film too!” the other woman--probably Darcy--called from where she was using some sort of recording device on the Bifrost site.

Human technology--both a blessing and a curse.

“I’m Jane Foster and I’m investigating phenomena possibly related to Einstein-Rosen Bridges. Dimensional wormholes? Transdimensional portals?” The van started crawling along beside the woman who had named herself Jane--the unknown man inside had started driving.

“Jane--” The man inside the van sounded cautious. In fact everything in his tone said _get back in the van_. “It might have been a trick of the light.”

“Some trick. And you’re offering rides to complete strangers?” The dark-haired woman who might be Darcy looked at Jane incredulously as she caught up with them again. Not as petite as Jane Foster, she was also more belligerent in tone and body language. “Even though you think they might have something to do with that sand storm and that beam of light?”

“That bright light just now? It’s an anomaly that I’ve been observing.” The woman was persistent, Loki had to give her that.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said at last, lying to buy some time. Thor’s face was not going to give anything away at least.

“I can explain,” she offered again. “If you tell me what you know about what happened back there. Who were those people?”

“Friends,” Thor said simply.

“Where did they go?”

“Home.” Maybe Thor was right and one-word answers were best. They were not bound to tell her the whole truth.

The woman Jane shook her head, as though trying to reconcile what she had seen with what her Midgardian logic dictated was true. “We’ll give you a lift back to wherever you’re going and review the footage, okay?”

“You’re very trusting. We could be out to rob and kill you, you know?”

“I’ve got a taser and I’m not afraid to use it,” Darcy warned them--she had her hand in the pocket of her jacket all this while. Not so foolish after all then. Jane Foster had friends who had the presence of mind to go around at night armed.

“You haven’t tried anything yet,” Jane Foster said at last. “And you could have with no witnesses around here.”

“Jane!”

“It’s all right, Erik,” she said to the man. “We’ll just have a short talk . . . Where do you live anyway?”

“Puerto Nuevo.” At least she had been canny enough to suggest going to their place inside of where she and her associates called home.

“First things first—who the hell are you guys?” Darcy still had her hand in her pocket.

“Loki. And he’s Thor.” Refuge in audacity might work. And Loki was honestly tired of waiting around in hiding and having people call him by some other name.

There was a muffled noise that sounded like disbelief from the driver’s seat of the van. 

“Okay, ‘Loki’ and ‘Thor’, you can ride in the back.” 

The short ride began and ended with Darcy glaring at them from amidst the blocky items--Jane’s equipment, which they should not handle in any way least they wanted her shade haunting them forever--in the back of the van with her taser in hand.

Loki found the blinking electronic devices fascinating as he usually did, but did not know what they were for other than the standard laptop. If these humans were going to try to pump them for information, they should at least try to ask for something in return. Though it would be difficult to find an electrical outlet to charge such an item should Jane, Darcy and the sceptical Erik were to offer them one. Everything in her van must be running on batteries or portable power sources.

Electricity was something that they obviously did not have as they pulled up to the single storey dwelling with a few directions supplied by their passengers.

“You live _here_?” Darcy asked, her voice radiating scepticism and while she did not say _what a dump_ , it was obvious from the way the three of them looked at the dark building dubiously.

“It’s not a palace, I’m afraid,” Thor said--he was not particularly offended, having just recovered the use of his arm, but they had never entertained visitors before. Not that this place was in any shape to receive anyone.

“But it’s all we got. You can bring your torchlights if you want.” Loki saw Darcy eyeing the dusty backyard suspiciously and could not resist.

“That’s where we bury the bodies,” he said solemnly. 

“Ha ha,” Darcy said, deadpan. “We’ve picked up a pair of comedians instead. I still have my eye on you, Mister.”

“Which you have not used yet.”

“Just give me a reason.”

He shrugged and opened the door for them. “We might not have enough chairs though.”

They did not have enough chairs, but Loki was more inclined to perch on an old crate and watch their discomfort as Thor ushered them in.  
It was probably quite gauche to say _we had sex on every surface_. So he thought it as they sat down gingerly at the table. Which had also served its time as the closest available flat surface though it was creaking alarmingly now--

Loki gritted his teeth and told his libido to shut up.

They passed around a thermos of black coffee--it was pretty strong--and the chips that Darcy had brought along as Jane hauled out her laptop and started talking about wormholes while scrolling through multiple images of what looked like the Bifrost cutting through the atmosphere.

Darcy was mouthing _she just gets excited about data_ behind Jane’s head while the man Erik Selvig was the most reserved, darting odd looks at the two of them occasionally. Thor and Loki _did_ know about what she was trying to say about travelling between dimensions--it did not usually involve mathematical equations though. 

Jane Foster was apparently one of the academic elite of her world--combining a commendable amount of focus and a rigorously logical mind in her small frame. She would have sounded as though she was speaking another language to the average person on the streets of this town. A very _specific_ language related to her science.

Loki respected her learning enough to listen politely, but it was clear that without actual evidence, her theories were suppositions. There might be something in her research though--she had mentioned something about _traversable wormholes_. Thor had perked up slightly at that and he had met Loki’s eye over Jane’s laptop.

_A way home?_

Loki thought it unlikely with the current technology. And someone like Jane Foster would have to be able to build or construct a device that would harness this _exotic matter_ that she was going on about to function like Heimdall’s Observatory or the Casket of Ancient Winters.

They ran out of coffee and Thor brought out the few cans they had left.

Darcy looked at the canned coffee and her expression said everything. _Seriously? You poor bastards._ Jane carried on with the data she had recorded just hours before. Apparently the Biforst left some traces of its passage. The man Selvig was moved to make a few points of his own. He was some sort of more senior scientist and Darcy Lewis was a _research assistant_ , not a scientist.

As the sky lightened in the east and Jane finally wound down, Loki wanted to say that they could not help despite the fact that everything she said was probably true and dimensional travel was possible. But it just was _not_ their day.

There was a creak as the door swung open on its rusty hinges.

“Sorry, door was open. I’m a little late to this party, I know . . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had started out as a reasonably good day. Sif and Hogun had brought news that they were not completely cut off and then his arm was healed. There would have been other things planned once they left if he had been reading Loki’s mood correctly.

But they had been found by Jane Foster and her compatriots. The thing was, the lady was correct about the Bifrost and Thor had found himself listening as she described how a portal or wormhole as she called it could be opened between worlds. Perhaps there was a way off Midgard after all . . .

And then they received their second set of visitors as dawn approached.

“I’m a representative of S.H.I.E.L.D. and we really should have got here earlier.” The speaker in the doorway was a man of average height dressed in a dark suit. He looked like a normal human--except for the way he walked in like he belonged there.

The man in the suit stepped inside and looked over the small assembly. His gaze lingered on the canned coffee for a second before sweeping over the bare walls. But there had been a moment of _Seriously? You poor bastards_ somewhere in that look.

“Who are you?” the women called Darcy had the presence of mind to ask.

“Agent Coulson, ma’am, and I should have got here a little earlier. I’m afraid this is now a matter of national security.” A badge of some sort was produced from his suit.

“Holy crap--you really _are_ the men in black!” Darcy exclaimed even as Jane’s mouth dropped open. Erik Selvig looked even more wary now.

This was something they had not anticipated. Half-rising from his seat, Thor saw that Loki was looking for a way out--any way out. 

Their intentions were easily read by the man who had named himself Coulson. “Sir, my men have this place surrounded--it would be best for everyone involved that no-one makes any sudden moves. And Dr. Foster? I’m afraid we’re going to have to take your van. And your equipment and all recordings made.”

Jane Foster was up in arms immediately, jumping up and almost into Coulson’s face. Thor used the momentary distraction to look out the door. As the man Coulson said, there were other people outside. Thor could see at least three black vehicles outside and heard the quiet scuffing of footsteps against gravel around the building. A dozen men or more by the sound of it.

“Jane, these guys are here because you actually found _something_. Wait . . . you really think they’re alien aliens and not just illegal aliens?” Darcy asked with a frown. “They don’t even look like aliens.”

“Ms Lewis, that is not something I can divulge at the--”

“We have rights!” Jane said hotly. “And these guys are probably just squatters--”

There was no time like the present. They probably both moved at the same time but Thor reached the window first. 

_Alas--it had taken long enough to nail those shutters in place._

Wood splintered as Thor’s shoulder ploughed through the window. He hit the ground rolling and knocked the feet out from under two of those dark-suited men who had spread themselves around the perimeter. Loki followed, his momentum flooring the next closest figure.

A dozen men were not really an effective cordon when one considered their combined combat experience. With luck, they all could be taken out quickly.

The man Coulson got said something over Jane Foster’s head, but it was drowned out by a sudden roar. A very familiar roar.

Whipping around, they were momentarily stunned by the appearance of a Frost Giant in full charge.

“Shit,” Loki swore and Thor agreed with him wholeheartedly. It said something about their luck that Loki’s brothers would choose this day to come to Earth. Thor had seen Helblindi in action during the warg-hunt, but an attacking Frost Giant was still impressive. And very definitely deadly.

The humans were distracted by the sound of a Frost Giant’s challenge, instinctively responding to the threat. They had weapons on them, already drawn at the first sign of trouble.

“They can’t get into a fight,” Loki muttered, already up and running towards Helblindi.

Thor moved to knock the nearest gun out of its owner’s hands. It had been a thousand years since the humans last met the Jötunns--nothing good could come out of this.

“Hold!” Thor called as the rest of Coulson’s men came around the side of the house to investigate. “Do not attack!”

Disarming another man with one quick wrench of his arm, he followed it up with a tackle on the one with his weapon pointed in the approximate direction of Loki’s brother. Thor did not really expect the humans to listen--a threat was a threat after all.

“If you value your lives, you will not shoot!” 

But if Loki was harmed or Helblindi roused to a berserker rage, there would be a bloodbath.

The humans were not aware of the precise nature of the danger they were in, but that did not matter. An enraged Frost Giant was not something even battle-hardened Asgardians took lightly. Thor could only hope that these people were not as stupid as those robbers at the convenience store.

“Stand down!” The man Coulson had emerged from their dwelling, vaulting the window sill in an agile fashion. His eyes were already darting about and trying to make sense of this whole affair. This son of Coul moved like a warrior despite the suit--Thor would have been impressed if he was not busy taking down his men. “Set weapons to stun, but stand down!”

“You, sir, please do not make any more sudden moves,” he said to Thor sternly as he stepped forward to assess this new potential threat. “What is that anyway?”

“A Frost Giant--my brother-in-law,” Thor stated, standing up slowly and looking over at where Helblindi was no longer charging, but was glaring suspiciously at the humans over the top of Loki’s head. A little behind them, Býleistr was catching up and the sight of _two_ Frost Giants was going to be a little hard for the humans to process. They still their fingers firmly on the triggers of their weapons.

Somewhere behind them, Darcy Lewis’ exclamation of shock was cut off, probably by Jane or Erik as they watched all this transpire.

“I’ve got him to calm down, but it won’t take much to set him off again,” Loki called to them. “It would be advisable if those weapons were not actually pointing at us. And _him_ too.”

“We appear to be at an impasse,” Agent Coulson said after a brief pause as he took in Helblindi’s bared teeth--those were very sharp incisors. He did not show fear though. “I don’t suppose we could talk about this?”

Thor felt slightly more charitable towards the human--he obviously did not want his men to be slaughtered, but still had a duty to perform. And he was smart enough to realise that the immediate threat on the scene would start disembowelling people before he could be safely neutralised.

“Not with your people pointing guns at us,” Loki said. “My brother is feeling rather threatened at the moment--with good reason, I might add.”

In the silence that followed, the sound of hoof beats could be heard. Coulson’s expression was practically wooden by the time Sif, Fandral and Hogun rode into view.

“And these are?”

“Friends of mine--I would be rather upset if anyone shot at them.” Thor could see the subtle shifting of the men around him--this situation had got out of control and they did not know what to do about it. The man Coulson’s calm demeanour was probably the only thing holding them together and preventing any trigger-happy accidents. “I will speak to them so that they would not get the wrong impression of this affray.”

Coulson’s jaw tightened minutely and he looked as though he would rather not be having this conversation in the middle of someone’s dusty backyard with two massive Frost Giants within lunging distance. “I suppose you should. Can you guarantee that there will not be an attack?”

“No, but I will try to stop them if there is,” Thor said simply before stepping out from amongst the humans to hail his friends. At the moment, he would be little use in a fight, but Thor supposed that he might slow a charging Frost Giant down for all of two seconds. 

He was extremely relieved to see his friends though--if anything happened, at least they might have a chance of preventing a useless and ultimately costly fight.

“Thor! We came as fast as we could when Heimdall gave us the news!” Fandral already had his hand on his hilt and Hogun--well, Hogun did not telegraph his moves quite so openly, but he was ready to fight. Sif had her blades locked into their double-headed lance configuration, but pointed downwards.

“Friends, I hope that it is only a misunderstanding,” Thor began, hoping that they would have the good sense not to start anything. If the humans had better luck than Thor and Loki, they would get out of this alive.

“No, it wasn’t,” Loki stated from somewhere between his brothers. “The Midgardians were trying to apprehend us by surrounding the house. My brother sensed the threat and charged.”

Thor supposed that Loki had the right to be testy--he was trying to prevent the humans from becoming so much mincemeat after all.

“I hoped that they would change their minds,” Thor said with a meaningful look at Agent Coulson’s men. “A Frost Giant in a rage can cause a lot of damage. The son of Coul mentioned something about _talking_ , I believe?”

Looking from the Frost Giants to the Asgardians, Coulson nodded slowly. “Negotiations would be welcome at this stage. Can we all agree not to attack?”

“Then tell your people to stop pointing their guns at us!” Loki snapped. “Helblindi knows a weapon when he sees one.”

“Fine--my men will stand down. Then I have to call my superiors to report this in.”

“Why is that?” Thor asked.

“This has gone way beyond mission perimeters.” The man sighed as he saw the lack of comprehension on their faces. “It’s basically a mess now that you are sort of holding us hostage.”

Thor did not bother arguing that last point. Loki had a pair of Frost Giants primed and ready to erupt into violence after all. Perhaps it was better that the Midgardians were in awe of them for now.

“Good sir, you were attempting to detain the princes of Asgard in front of a pair of _Frost Giants_ , princes of Jötunheim in their own right,” Fandral said plainly as he took in the entire scene. “To be honest, I would say that you got off lightly.”

“Really?” Coulson asked, his composure slipping for just a moment. “What are all these foreign princes doing in New Mexico?”

“It’s a long tale, but you’d best see to your men,” Sif said. “We are here to prevent hostilities from starting. On the order of the Queen and in accordance to the laws governing the visitation of other Realms.”

The look she cast around at Thor and the Jötunns usually made lesser men quail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darcy Lewis had never expected to get credits for field research working for an _astrophysicist_ of all things.

She had never expected to come to the attention of a government agency so early in her career either.

She _definitely_ never expected to meet up with aliens in the middle of her field research module. Never mind that two of them looked like really cute squatters, three of them looked like escapees from a sci-fi and fantasy convention and two of them were ten-foot tall giants.

Jane looked like she wanted to run their cells through a mass spectrometer or something similar. Erik’s face was currently stuck in flabbergasted mode--but he actually looked like he knew some of those names they were bandying around.

Darcy vaguely knew that “Thor” and “Loki” were the names of gods or had something to do with Vikings. It would be inappropriate to google on her phone in the middle of first contact though. And the government agents might get it in their heads to confiscate their electronic devices again.

But not while everyone was looking sideways at the giants ever so often. Apparently, they could flip out and kill everyone. That had been legitimately scary. Still was.

Scarier than the two guys standing in the middle of the desert, that was for sure. She would have tasered them for acting weird if not for the fact that there had been _two_ of them and reloading took time. Tasers probably did not work on giants. Or the alien Vikings, who had been kind enough to stand somewhere between the giants and everyone who might be human.

They were speaking to Thor at the moment and who knew that aliens spoke like they came from a _Lord of the Rings_ casting call? Which brought up certain other interesting factoids that Darcy noted even as she and Jane edged closer to their little group. Jane looked like she desperately wanted to ask them about the secrets of the universe--preferably without The Man looking on.

“Hey, if you’re from another world, why do you speak English?” Darcy asked while the men in black regrouped and looked slightly less interested in taking away their stuff because they were watching the giants.

“It’s the gift of the All-Tongue,” the dandified Viking said. Which meant absolutely nothing to everyone who was not a human-shaped alien or a giant alien.

“It’s . . . like a magic spell. Which is supposed to reduce misunderstandings,” the Amazonian woman warrior said, looking at the alien princes pointedly.

“So if you heard another language like Chinese or Spanish, you’d understand it?”

“That is correct.”

“ _Mi aerodeslizador está lleno de anguilas_ ,” Darcy blurted out.

The woman’s perfectly smooth brow crinkled slightly. “Your air-boat is full of eels?”

Everyone else turned to look at Darcy.

“It’s stuck in my head ever since I tried learning Spanish online,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s a cool spell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After ascertaining that none of his men were anything other than lightly bruised from the scuffle, Agent Coulson phoned a certain number that was on the top of his contacts list.

Of course, _not_ calling in after a mission would throw up a red flag and S.H.I.E.L.D. would zoom in immediately to investigate. There were not enough red flags in the world for this, he decided.

There was no point in using other languages, as Ms Lewis and the warrior woman had demonstrated. S.H.I.E.L.D. had a set of perfectly functional codes in plain English--there just might not be a specific code for this sort of emergency. _Yet._

“Coulson, have you wrapped things up in New Mexico?” the familiar voice on the other end barked. 

Conscious of the eyes on his back, alien and human, Phil Coulson maintained an air of uttermost calm for the sake of his people, who had never ever seen him discomfited before. “Not exactly, Director.”

There was a pregnant pause.

"Are you going to tell me that your search-and-contain went pear-shaped?"

He hated giving his superior troubling news, but there was no help for it now. 

"No, sir, even worse--it's gone _diplomatic_."

On the other end of the line, Nick Fury swore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be assured that both Loki and Thor’s libidos are beating their heads against the wall about now.
> 
> Cockblocked by science/S.H.I.E.L.D./Coulson/the Universe, etc.
> 
> I am slightly in love with Natalie Portman because she’s a science geek playing a scientist. This bias might show up in the future.
> 
> Edit: I'm not a physicist by training. Any errors are all going to be down to not enough research.


	15. Interlude: My Big Fat Asgardian Wedding

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What an eyesore,” Loki Laufeyson remarked to his manservant.

“Green and gold do look good together, sir,” Kerr said diplomatically.

“Not like _that_.” The prince gestured at the gryphons rampant stitched across the front of a tunic and the dragons twining all over the folds of a cloak. “Unless the damn things are copulating, they really shouldn’t be so close. And you’re not a _politician_ , Kerr--you just have to speak your mind.”

The man forbore to comment on his last words. “I’m sure the master tailor can arrange for something a little more subtle at the last minute, sir.” 

No doubt these garments had been slaved over for months before Loki’s arrival--requiring only adjustments for someone who was not actually seven feet tall. But Loki would be damned if he would acquiesce to the whims of elevated servants or appear as an over-decorated doll in front of the Asgardians.

It was an elaborate circus after all. Loki knew that he had more to do than just show up and look princely. He had already been on a hunt in the morning with Thor and his companions--more hospitable Asgardian entertainment and getting them out of the Palace he supposed. It had been easier than warg-hunting despite having to keep his seat on the horse. The boar they had brought down would be just one more centrepiece in the feast scheduled for tomorrow. 

Tomorrow. The Asgardian marriage ceremony that would seal the alliance even in the eyes of those who would not consider the rite on Jötunheim binding. More fool them.

He could practice patience for now. Wait until the actual ritual at the heart of this glittery shell of a wedding was complete.

There were countless things to do before that though. Loki even had a page to run errands and pass on messages.

The child--for surely it was a child--assigned to him was short creature with tousled brown hair and a high piping voice. No secondary sexual characteristics on the surface to indicate if it was a girl child or a boy child in the dark blue tunic that all pages wore.

He bent to look at the page in its pink and white face. “Tell me, are you a girl or a boy?”

“I’m a girl!” Wide brown eyes stared up at him without fear. “My name’s Brenda,” the girl said, belatedly bobbing her head and the rest of her body. “Your Highness.”

“I see--and how did you become a page?” Loki turned his attention to the clothes that had been laid out for his consideration. Apparently _subtle_ would not do for a wedding or the tailors had a lot of gold thread to spare. Or perhaps Asgardians just liked to be visible to everyone with eyes for miles.

“My mother said it would be good to go into service and Queen Frigga agreed,” she said.

He looked back at the extremely young page again. “And what do you think about that? Be honest.” 

Emboldened by the fact that Kerr had left to fetch another piece of armour or something, Brenda shrugged. “Too soon to tell, sire.”

He leaned in closer. “And you’re not afraid to be in service to a prince of Jötunheim?”

“You don’t look like you could bite my head off with jaws like that. Maybe a hand or two--” The girl clamped her hand over her mouth as she realised that this might constitute an inappropriate thing to say.

“Then you’re more sensible than most people in Asgard,” Loki said with a laugh. “I have no taste for Asgardian flesh. But perhaps that’s because I’ve never had any.”

“They say flesh tastes like pork,” Brenda whispered.

“Do they? I wonder who _they_ are and how they know . . . I suppose we’ll never find out,” Loki mused before handing a bundle of clothing over to Brenda. “Take this to the master tailor and ask him to find something with a little less silver and gold thread. Feel free to make up as many scary stories about me to impress your friends with--now run along.”

Grinning from ear to ear--what tiny white teeth their children had--Brenda dashed past Kerr, who had returned with an entire mannequin decked out in armour.

“Really?” Loki asked, fascinated and horrified at the same time.

“Afraid so, sir. Parades have always been rather military in style here.”

Why the Aesir would encase themselves in metal for a wedding was probably something related to their love of battle. Loki did not look forward to spending an afternoon with Kerr trying to figure out which part went where.

They were interrupted in the middle of this by a sharp rap on the door to his receiving room. Kerr went to open it.

“What now?” Loki asked, coming face to face with the stone-faced Valkyrie who strode right past Kerr and into his chambers. Half a dozen armoured women followed, instantaneously fanning out and checking the rooms for threats.

“Prince Loki. You haven’t put on any of those clothes yet?” The serious demeanour on her sharp-featured face demanded an immediate answer rather than the introduction that protocol dictated.

“No--I am merely weeding out the inappropriate ones. Why?”

“An apprentice to the tailor suffered a prick from a needle hidden in the ornamentation of a garment that you rejected.”

Loki processed this for a second. “Poisoned?”

The Valkyrie nodded, the stern cast of her face not softening even for a moment. “He’ll recover because he was rushed to the Healing Hall in time.”

So it had begun. Loki had expected outright hostility and potential assassination attempts, but this seemed at odds with Asgard’s apparent openness and its forthright warrior mentality. There were hidden barbs behind all the smiles and the apparent warmth of this gleaming city after all.

“I suppose you’ll have to confiscate the entire wardrobe?” Loki tried not to sound pleased--this was a serious matter.

“Just to check that they have not been similarly treated.” The woman had her sister Valkyries take the clothes out, each article handled in heavily gloved hands. She examined the armour herself--piece by piece. “I will have to report back to the All-Father and the Lady Frigga now. Everything coming into this room will be screened. Your Highness.”

A stiff nod was all he received before she strode out as briskly as she had entered.

“That was Valda--she’s in charge of investigating internal affairs,” his manservant murmured when the Valkyries had left. Two of their number had stationed themselves outside the door to guard and screen any item that was brought in and the people bringing them. “Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side . . .”

“I am certain that any culprit that comes to her attention will deserve it.” Loki looked around the room uneasily. “It could have been you, Brenda or any of the maids poisoned instead.”

Kerr looked shaken. As well he should be. Anyone handling the clothes could have suffered the same fate. Which was why he could probably rule out Kerr--the man was honestly shocked at coming so close to death.

“I supposed we’ll have to be careful of anything that gets sent to me.” Loki looked at the mannequin thoughtfully. Armour was beginning to make more sense now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ _What?_ ” Thor’s voice, usually quite loud in itself, did not echo in the spell-muted air of his mother’s private sitting room.

This was not the grand high-ceilinged space of the Valaskjálf, but an inner chamber frequented by the royal family. The walls were thicker here despite the softer touches that indicated the queen’s hand in its decor. The arched windows only over-looked a few hundred feet of empty air, making it difficult for eavesdroppers to listen in.

“But that’s outrageous! An assassination attempt in the Palace itself!”

“We know that, Thor. Valda is seeking answers,” Frigga said placidly from where she sat with her needlework on her lap.

Even Thor had to pause at that for Valda was a frighteningly dedicated pursuer. “It’s . . . underhanded.”

“Very much so. But there are few who would gainsay my edicts to my face.” Odin was pacing slowly, the ravens strangely still on a set of perches by the high windows as he took one step and then another. “Even fewer who can hide from Heimdall’s sight. So of course it must be underhanded and disguised as something mundane. What could be more harmless than someone applying embroidery on a tunic?”

So they _had_ been trying to figure out how it had been achieved and who might have done it. “You sound as though you’ve anticipated this.” He did not mean to sound accusatory, but subterfuge was not his area.

“Of course, Thor--you’re not deaf, you’ve heard the discontent in the lower court,” Odin said impatiently. “This wedding is not to everyone’s taste.”

“So one of our own people--”

“Possibly several,” Odin injected in passing. “Bound by common interests.”

“Perhaps they should have done more research as well--that poison would have severely inconvenienced Loki Laufeyson for a few days, but it would not have been _lethal_ ,” Frigga said, her hands occupied with her stitching while her eyes watched her husband and son. “The Frost Giants have a distinctively different biology. That young apprentice will recover in time, though not as hale as he was before.”

“At least they did not succeed.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that they’ll try again.” Odin’s pacing took him past his wife. “Perhaps something more direct if the underhanded methods fail.”

“But everything’s so public,” Thor pointed out even as he privately winced at the very thought of tomorrow’s schedule. The ceremony in the late morning, followed by a procession, the receiving of gifts and the feast to cap it all off.

“It would be easy to hide an assassin in a crowd.” Odin stilled for a moment. The ravens shifted on their perches, beady eyes focused in a way that true birds could not achieve. “But it is not as though the Jötunn prince is defenceless. And we are not without a few tricks of our own.”

“Invited your spouse to dinner, Thor,” Frigga said to her son. “We’ll have to speak to him about this. He should know about people trying to kill him even if he does not suspect it already.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki Laufeyson spent the night before the wedding in the traditional fretful state--though not for the usual reasons.

The Odinson had invited him to a private family meal with Odin All-Father and the Lady Frigga. A fact that Loki had been grateful for. He was honestly tired of feasting in public and making a spectacle of himself.

And it was a relief to know that he was probably not going to be poisoned while eating meat and drinking wine from the royal table. No doubt Odin and his queen had shrewdly seen to that before they sent the prince with the invitation. They confirmed the fact that he was probably going to be targeted and that it would be most unfortunate if he died because it would probably mean another war.

As in the alliance would have failed, the Asgardians would probably--definitely--demand the Casket back, Laufey would probably--definitely--say no and they would be back where they started a thousand years ago. Odin had the right to be mildly ticked off about it.

And Loki would be dead, a state he was not that eager to explore at the moment. At least the royal family agreed that it would not do for him to die tragically on his wedding day no matter how stirring a tale it would make.

Loki learned one interesting fact during that conversation-- _certain actions could be concealed from Heimdall_. _The guardian was not omniscient._

He tucked that away for later as Thor launched into how the procession route was open to attack and where the weak points were at each stage. The wedding plans were not going to be changed or rescheduled after all.

Loki had not expected his warrior spouse to have the brains of wily Odin--some things obviously did not get passed from the father to the son. The All-Father had some idea of what a suitably skilled seiðmaðr could do and quizzed Loki relentlessly about the defensive spells he knew.

Queen Frigga was the practical one of this family. Armour, of course, could be both ceremonial and functional, she pointed out. Whoever tried to take a shot at Loki Laufeyson out in public would probably miss due to the misdirection and illusion spells he could weave about his person. And there was the shielding spell he could hold up along with the armour he had been gifted with.

Thor, not being the sort to think defensively most of the time, could only chip in when they spoke of armour. And that was why Loki spent some time after dinner trying on chest plates and chainmail. Enchanted armour with some defensive spells woven through them so that he would stand a chance against a thrown blade or an arrow.

For a pre-bedtime activity, Loki had never imagined that he would be dodging spears thrown by Thor that night in the private courtyard of the queen to test how well his illusions would work at misdirecting an assassin. It was not the original context in which he would have liked to play with his mate’s spear. Especially with the parents-in-law in attendance.

But he had to survive the next day to reach the marriage bed once again. Loki recalled what Laufey had said once, a few centuries back when he had joined his age-mates on a warg-hunt-- _Why would you expect anything to be easy? Least of all this?_ So he dodged the queen’s arrows and fell into his bed later with new respect for his mother-in-law because she had come a lot closer to hitting him than Thor had.

Roused by his manservant the next morning, Loki partook of a light breakfast before taking a bath. He was dressed in his wedding finery-- _sans_ most of the gilt he had rejected--and strapped into the protective chest plate before donning his furs and then it was all topped off with another layer of illusion.

“What do you think? Properly barbaric enough?” he asked Kerr and Brenda the page as they viewed him in his original form, dressed the way he had been for the ceremony on Jötunheim.

“You can’t grow ‘nother foot taller, sir?” Brenda asked hopefully.

“That would be overdoing it,” Loki said with a sigh--the child had meant no harm by that. And it would make him even easier to spot from a distance if he really was seven feet tall. “Is it time yet?”

“Aye, it’s time to get into position, sir.” 

Brenda, carrying with her a folded moss-green cloak and the tray with the potted plants on it, fell in behind Loki as he left his rooms and was escorted down through the hallways by a phalanx of Valkyries, their armour gleaming and their faces impassive.

The gasps as he swept into the great hall lined with the great and the good of Asgard were worth it.

This little bit of melodrama had been orchestrated by Odin. Loki had gone along with it because they should remember that he was a Frost Giant and a sorcerer. A little fear would go a long way.

He also made a wonderful target in his blue skin and white furs. Loki was honestly going to be put out if would-be assassins did not at least _try_ to put an arrow or a spear through him after all these preparations.

Thor was already standing at the central dais at the foot of Asgard’s throne before a an undecorated altar. Loki’s escort brought him past the crowds lining the central aisle and around the shallow reflecting pool that glowed a very faint blue, watched by row after row of Valkyries, guards, handmaidens and nobles.

His family and a number of elders would be watching from Utgard via the magic of the Casket channelled through the reflective surface. Just to ensure that everything was done properly with witnesses. Loki thought that he should try not to die in an embarrassing fashion in front of them and all of Asgard.

In a sliver bowl on the altar were the golden apples harvested by Idunn. The flowering plants in their receptacles were placed on the altar as a nod to Jötunn traditions. After Odin struck Gungnir on the tiles for silence, Thor set his hammer down on the altar between them to begin the rite.

It was customary to pledge a sword in trust for the future heir, but Thor hoped to pass Mjölnir onto potential children. And there was no better weapon to swear on after all.

Loki called the ice and formed a blade around his forearm--a modification of the ritual for Loki was perfectly capable of defending himself--so that they could swear their oaths and exchange their armbands once again.

And it was finally done--bound by ice and bound by vows over steel again. The golden apple was ceremoniously proffered to Thor by some handmaiden, who offered it to Loki to welcome him officially to Asgard. Its crisp flesh was sweet with the promise of youth and extended life when Loki bit into it.

That was the cue to drop his illusion and he was pale and dark-haired again. As though he could become one of them just by marrying the prince. The appearance of his original form had been a solid thumb in the eye of the factions who objected to a Frost Giant’s presence anywhere near Asgard--Odin could be a nasty bastard when he wanted to be. The show was appreciated most of its audience, who cheered as Thor raised his hammer again.

There was just enough time to switch his fur cloak for the moss-green brocade before they were swept away to show their newly married selves to the general populace waiting outside.

The crowds were composed of who had not been fortunate enough to attend the marriage ceremony inside the Palace. Dressed in their bright colours and adorned with flowers, the rest of Asgard had turned up to line the streets to partake of the festivities. A royal wedding was a royal wedding no matter who was getting married after all. There would be free mead and beer to celebrate the occasion according to Kerr--so it was not that surprising that many people were slightly more in favour of the event at the moment. 

The Asgardians certainly liked it when Thor and his foreign spouse threw sweet bread for the youngsters in the crowd and gold coins for the adults from the top of the steps. They probably remembered to smile and wave at some point before they were brought to where they mounted their horses for the damned procession. A parade through the streets of the golden city, really.

For all the gaiety around them, this was the most vulnerable stage and the honour guard that rode with them were comprised of experienced warriors and Valkyries pledged to Frigga. The royal party comprising of Odin All-Father and his queen rode ahead of the newlyweds on a chariot. Having the approval of the goddess of marriage had helped to allay the doubts of most Asgardians.

Halfway through the circular lap of the city, their luck ran out as they neared one of those high bridges that spanned across the city byways.

There was a noise like an exhalation of air that had nothing to do with the cheering crowd and Loki felt the familiar tingling sensation of some sort of sorcery. Before he could give warning, a gaping hole in the fabric of reality appeared in front of the procession for a split second--just long enough to disgorge something large and extremely noisy.

It was also scaly, antlered and heading in their general direction.

“Bilgesnipe!” Thor roared in warning.

The horses reacted faster than their riders, squealing in panic. Thor got off his mount immediately, entrusting the reins to a startled Valkyrie before swinging his hammer in large arcs. The warnings of their escort were in vain as the God of Thunder shot off into the air and came down practically on top of the creature, setting off tremors under their feet.

There was a rampaging bilgesnipe on the loose and the first thing his intended mate did was to attack it with his hammer. Fárbauti would probably approve while Laufey would shake his head along with Odin.

Loki had more on his plate to worry about at the moment for Aud was tossing his head and rolling his eyes as he fought the reins. There was also a distressing smell in the air that seemed to emanate from the great beast--it was making his breakfast rise unexpectedly in his throat. The bilgesnipe’s scent was apparently hell on anyone with a more sensitive nose--horses and Frost Giants included. 

Aud’s frantic rearing was arrested by a capable hand on his bridle.

“The scent of that thing drives most animals crazy.” This relatively cheerful specimen of a Valkyrie was also using her horse to block the other horses from running willy-nilly into the fray. “Let’s back up now. Slowly.”

Their escort regrouped and formed a wall of steel between the nobles in the procession and the escalating battle. They were able to calm their horses or guide them in a careful retreat for the most part. It had been a narrow escape though--if that thing had come down while they were crossing the bridge . . .

The afore-mentioned bridge shuddered again as the great beast stomped across it, throwing men off like flies as it bellowed its challenge. Thor was still going at it even as Fandral and Hogun joined in with the other warriors.

“You’re letting him fight that thing?” Loki asked Sif, who had not dismounted with the others but was guarding the retreat of civilians and nobles alike.

“He’s good at it,” Sif said with a shrug.

“Why aren’t you going after it with your friends then?”

She waved her hand under her nose for emphasis. “It smells. And there is no shame in protecting lives while the boys run amok.”

Loki, feeling rather nauseous at the moment, could not help but agree as they backed away from the battle. A bilgesnipe would be a creature that even a Frost Giant would be hard-pressed to fight off.

Which was why Thor had to take two baths before Frigga allowed him to go for the feast in the evening after he had returned with his companions and the score of guards, covered with the scent and fluids of the unfortunate bilgesnipe that they had vanquished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Another!” Thor declared as he dashed the heavy pottery mug on the floor. The traditional mead was thick and sweet like the honey it was brewed from and packed a heady kick. The mead purportedly increased fertility and would be drunk for a month after the wedding--but Loki Laufeyson had barely touched his during the feasting after the ceremonial cup had been handed around.

Conversely, Thor usually felt the urge to drink more after a successful hunt or battle. The bilgesnipe had put up a fight, but it had been easy enough to distract so that Thor could land the killing blow.

After the disrupted procession, they had repaired to the Palace. Thor to get the stench of bilgesnipe off him and Loki to steel himself for another public outing at the feasting hall. Loki smiled pleasantly enough, but it was not something that came naturally to him.

The foreign prince was putting a good face on for the Asgardians despite being the probable target of an attack designed to be as chaotic and unpredictable as possible. The casualties had been fewer than there could have been, under the circumstances, but it had troubled a great many people including Loki, a sorcerer in his own right. Beneath the razor-thin smile was an edginess that few noticed as the evening wore on.

Thor conceded privately that Loki had the right to be ill at ease. He had allowed himself to be paraded out despite the threat of assassination after all. And there had been the matter of the bilgesnipe being dropped on them. If it had been timed properly, they might never have reached this part of the wedding.

Perhaps Frigga or Odin had noticed, for they signalled to the handmaidens and the selected nobles to rise at last. They would form the escort to walk the wedded couple to the bedchamber. Fortunately for them, the Aesir had done away with public bedding and the need for the bride to be a virgin a long while ago.

Thor imagined that Loki would have laughed at the irony of that if anyone had mentioned it. But the prince of the Frost Giants was wearing his most expressionless façade as they were guided by handmaidens bearing ceremonial torches to the corridor that separated Loki’s chamber from Thor’s.

It had been arranged that they would be escorted to Loki’s suite for the wedding night. The rooms were still impersonal and extremely neat--proof that the Valkyries had swept the place before the servants had tidied it up again.

Loki’s shoulders sagged a little when the doors closed behind them.

“Bath. Now.” Loki shed his cloak and his torque briskly but took the time to drape them over a chair. “I can still smell traces of that bilgesnipe on you.”

Thor was fairly certain that he did not smell, but supposed that the Jötnar had more sensitive olfactory organs. A bath and a hot soak was still welcome though.

Seated on a ledge so that he was chest-deep in the bathing pool, Thor watched his spouse’s ablutions through half-closed eyes. He was certainly meticulous in his toilet.

There was a soft splash as Loki stepped into the water.

“Clean enough for you now?” Thor asked as Loki waded deeper into the pool.

“It will do,” Loki said drily before moving to straddle Thor’s lap. 

As it turned out, his new spouse was not shy in the bedroom. Or the bathing chamber. Then again, Thor had originally thought that weddings would be boring.

“I am surprised that you are in the mood for this,” Thor said, mellowed by mead and a good workout earlier in the day.

“Frost Giant, remember? We are not known for being celibate.” Loki kissed him first, experimentally. Perhaps he found it to his liking, for he tried it again. “This would be harder if your teeth were sharper. My sire did say that there were a few advantages to this shape.”

The memory of Fárbauti, now one Realm removed, amused Thor even as he felt his prick stirring in response to the hand that was teasing its length. “Do you find us odd then?”

“Very. And you wear too much clothing.” Loki’s hand paused in its ministrations. “But you enjoy the hunt so much that a bilgesnipe dropped onto your wedding was only _entertainment_ to you.”

“A diverting sport, aye, but the All-Father and my mother do not take it so lightly.” Thor sat up a little straighter in the water. “Treason will be punished. I am not the seeker of truths, but I will not stay my hand when the perpetrators are found.”

“Save a piece for me,” Loki said, looking Thor in the eye. “I am of a bloody and vengeful race, after all.”

 _That_ Thor could understand. “Aye. You will have redress. But it might not be the last attempt, as my father has cautioned me.”

Loki’s clever, mobile mouth twisted into the rough approximation of a smile. “And I never used to worry that someone in my dam and king’s court would help me have an accident that would either invalidate this alliance or clear up the line of succession.”

“Politics are a sticky business--I like it not,” Thor confessed. “It leads to the treachery you speak of. Though you seem to be discomfited by the thought of assassins in Asgard . . .”

Here, Thor paused and felt the tension in the body resting on his thighs. Loki was like a coiled spring, all lean muscle and tight shoulders.

“I was never important enough to warrant killing until now,” Loki said at last. “Much less someone using sorcery or buying a sorcerer to arrange my death via bilgesnipe.”

“And you did not anticipate this when you consented to wed?” _Consent_ was a loaded word. For whatever it had been worth, they had chosen to do their duty.

“Anticipating and experiencing are two different things,” Loki said primly. “I do not need a great lummox like yourself to explain it to me.”

“You did not come to thank me for slaying a bilgesnipe that could have killed half the people in the procession?”

Loki actually rolled his eyes and shifted so that Thor could feel that he was not the only one interested at this moment. “No. I need you to impregnate me so that there’ll be one more reason to kill me.”

“What? Now?” Thor’s brows knitted in surprise. Loki had been apprehensive about that part of the act back in Utgard.

“I have not come so far to falter at this particular threshold.” And yes, it had been a overly long, unexpectedly exciting wedding for both of them.

“Or you’ve been talking to Mother about certain things.” Thor slipped a finger into the slit between Loki’s legs, causing him to moan pleasurably as his clit was manipulated by a callused thumb.

“Smart woman, your mother.” That was the first time his spouse had mentioned anything about Thor’s parents--it looked as though Frigga and Loki would get along. But all this flew out of Thor’s mind as Loki ground against him shamelessly. “There’s a first time for everything after all.”

“So long as you do not find this unpleasant.” Thor was ready--more than ready now.

Loki looked at him narrowly and snorted. “Son of Odin, you’re going to have smell like a bilgesnipe before you can stop me from claiming my right to the marriage bed.”

“We’re in a bath,” Thor said inanely even as his hands cupped those smooth buttocks and positioned Loki’s body just so--

Loki’s only response was to bite Thor’s ear as he was penetrated. It helped that he was already wet and slick inside with arousal, causing Thor to groan as his cock was squeezed by that tight passage. Loki’s grip on his shoulders tightened even as he was stretched open.

Listening to the sound of Loki’s breathing, Thor waited for him to adjust before pushed upwards a little more. When Loki was seated on his member as far as he could go, he paused again. 

“I think you should move now,” Loki murmured huskily in his ear. So Thor did, shifting his hips down and up again in a steady rhythm until Loki steadied himself against his shoulders and started to ride him.

It surprised and pleased Thor that Loki could derive pleasure from this first time. So he held back his own release, which was not all that easy while watching his now flushed and panting spouse impaling himself on his cock, his sharp-featured face intent and slick with sweat and steam.

Wreathed in the steam-laden haze of their coupling, Loki lost himself to desire and cried out as his climax overwhelmed him, strong fingers digging into Thor’s biceps even as his muscles clenched around him like a warm vice.

At the end of his limited patience, Thor pulled Loki against him as he roared to mark his own release. Long, lean legs about his waist held him close even as he spent himself inside his spouse. Apparently Loki was serious about the matter of getting himself with child, for he did not let Thor go even when they both started to come down from the sexual high of their copulation.

“To bed?” Thor asked eventually.

“To bed,” Loki agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	16. New Mexican Stand-Off (Day One Hundred and Twenty-Four)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were actually very few things Nick Fury actually hated in this world, despite his constantly cantankerous exterior. It was not an easy job, safeguarding the world against threats. He honestly disliked things that made his already difficult job more difficult. He was not fond of meetings with the bureaucrats that made up the Council because that fell under the former category. He was not inclined towards diplomacy because such things made his job more complicated and required clearance from higher levels--i.e. the World Security Council. Fortunately for his growing headache, he had a number of executive powers available to him for use in emergencies like this. 

Aliens from another dimension were bad enough, but alien royalty exiled to Earth was just the icing on the cake.

"And E.T. is fully capable of calling home?" he asked Coulson over the secure channel, wishing that they would just go home instead of being front and centre of the clusterfuck in the middle of New Mexico.

"Affirmative, sir. Their friends and family do not appear to be willing to leave them in our hands without some serious reassuring."

"So there's an alien convention, comprised of at least two races from two different dimensions, in the desert outside some fringe town, along with civilian witnesses?" Fury liked to get his facts straight so that he knew just how fucked up the situation was.

"Yes, sir. And they appear to be strongly against containment or incarceration in any form."

"But open for negotiations. With people who can actually speak for each race."

"Apparently so."

Fury sighed. "I'll leave the primary negotiations to you. I need to get down there to see this so that I can report back to the Council with something a little more concrete."

"Sucks to be you, sir."

"Don't sass me yet, Coulson. You do whatever it is you can to keep them contained without the whole schtick about underground prisons. I want eyes on them at all times. You can call them bodyguards, whatever, but make sure we have the manpower on the ground to neutralise them at any given moment if necessary." Fury did not like the idea of more people knowing about this--S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel could give clams a run for their money, but no organisation was completely air-tight.

"Can I have Barton and Romanoff for this, sir?" 

Fury opened his mouth to object. Then closed it. Coulson had the right to ask for the best people in a situation like this. And the fact that he had asked for Barton and Romanoff implied that their E.T.s were combat-ready if not already prepared to do battle. It also signified that Coulson had a plan in mind and Fury could usually trust him to do the most appropriate thing possible, rules be damned.

As for his choice in personnel . . . When it came to unflappable, Agent Romanoff was the queen of things that did not flap--aliens would probably not faze her. And Barton was a master at keeping an eye on people in addition to being right on target when shooting them. Together, they could probably keep the situation contained and take out potential alien hostiles. 

"Consider them on their way," he replied at last. "Keep a lid on the civilians for now."

"See you later, Director."

Fury checked his current coordinates. “Give me an hour. Maybe two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha Romanoff raced down the metal catwalk and slide down the narrow stairs at the end. Around her, the metal structure of the oil rig echoed with the noise of pursuit.

Stirring up this hornets’ nest had been inevitable the moment she had been discovered.

The minute, pea-sized comm in her ear crackled to life--there was no need for codes because this channel was not available to anyone with insufficient security clearance. _“Agent Romanoff.”_

“Now? Really?” she asked as she ran along the lower corridor and emerged onto the unsheltered dock.

_“Agent Romanoff, how do you feel about New Mexico?”_

Natasha looked back down the corridor--the sound of boots on metal was getting closer. She pulled the air tank and the buoyancy device from where she had hidden them under some life-rafts, slipping the modified apparatus on without much effort. “It sounds great at the moment. When do I start?”

_“Immediately. Report to the extraction point as soon as possible.”_

“Sure. Give me a minute to wrap things up here.” She zipped up the collar of her wetsuit, checked that her diving gear was in place and started counting mentally.

Then she depressed the remote control detonator and dove off the platform into the waters of the Caspian Sea.

New Mexico would be drier at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Broad fingers of sunlight touched the red roofs of the Old Town in Prague as the early morning commuters appeared on the cobbled streets below.

Snugly ensconced in a semi-decorative niche under the eaves of one such roof, some six stories off the ground, Clint Barton took aim.

_“Agent Barton, Code Seven-Alpha-Zero-Beta-One, abort current mission.”_

“I copy. You sure about that? I got him in my sights right now.”

_“Confirmed. Abort mission. We’ll send the new file over to you on the way to the extraction point.”_

“I copy. Mission aborted.” Clint eased his arm back and stowed the arrow before folding his bow. He looked down at his former target--the man was unaware of how close he had come to death and was currently enjoying an espresso.

The arrow was designed to break apart after piercing the heart and there was a sweeper down there all ready to clean up too. But it looked like the job was cancelled.

Sometimes, people just got lucky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In New Mexico, as the morning wore on, Loki turned Sif’s words over in his head even as he kept an eye on the humans and the Asgardians. And his brothers.

_We are here to prevent hostilities from starting._

Not _we are here to bail out these two princes who are due to go back home soon_. Not _we are here in defence of our princes who just saved you from a sticky end_.

This had to do with the centuries-old treaties that forbade incursions or invasions of the other Realms. Asgardian, all the Giants including the Jötnar, Elf, Dwarf . . . they had all agreed to withdraw from Midgard, taking with them their influence and becoming legends with time.

But now Loki was disquieted by a nagging suspicion that would not go away.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how many people knew that he and his spouse were exiled here on Midgard. Laufey could keep a secret, but not Helblindi. Býleistr, he was uncertain of, but it was because his youngest brother kept his own counsel. If certain parties knew that Helblindi was visiting his brother, what was to stop them from encouraging him to go more often? All it would take would be one altercation like this one--or his brother just accidentally stepping on a human--and the Realms would be at war again.

It would be easy to say that Loki was jumping at shadows, except for the fact that he was in all likelihood teetering on the brink of war.

Loki Laufeyson had not entered into this alliance so that a string of clumsy incidents could lead to hostilities within the first year of his marriage. And certainly not because his impressionable dolt of a brother had accidentally or purposely flattened a few Midgardians.

He eyed the humans warily. The man Coulson had called his superiors and arranged for his men to stand down a little further away so as not to attract undue attention. Coulson and two of his men stay with them though, which raised his standing amongst the Asgardians and the Frost Giants present. He had even offered to have food delivered, resulting in Thor and another of his men driving into town to pick up more coffee and two dozen breakfast sets from the diner.

It was, according to the son of Coul, a momentous occasion to be welcoming foreign royalty from another Realm. A pity they had only pancakes and eggs to mark the occasion.

Thor saw nothing wrong with that. Neither had Darcy Lewis, who had declared that if they had to be stuck here while both sides eyeballed each other, they might as well do it on a full stomach. She had been playing a game whereby she threw pancakes at Helblindi and he would catch them in his mouth until the food ran out. It would have looked perfectly harmless and undignified except for the sight of Helblindi’s teeth every time he opened his jaws--which were just large enough to fit a human head into. 

If anyone was astonished that a Frost Giant could eat the food of this Realm, they kept it to themselves. And if anyone was surprised that one human woman could overcome bladder-loosening fear to play childish games with a giant, they never said a word.

The man Couslon tried to make the best of the situation and drew them into a discussion after breakfast--his manner was cordial and you could hardly tell that he had never sat down with Frost Giants and Asgardians before. 

It was unheard of to meet people from other worlds unless it was fictional--like in the Midgardian movies or television. So it was counted as an earth-shaking revelation. But it had to be handled delicately, Coulson had cautioned. There were far too many potential issues that would arise from their presence and the fact that they were the stuff of legends and defunct religions. Loki supposed that meant that Dr. Foster and her associates could not be allowed to tell their tale over the internet or similar.

“I hope you’ll understand the need for us to keep it hushed up at the moment,” Agent Coulson said, spreading his hands slightly. “This is pretty heavy stuff for your average human.”

“So long as you aren’t going to like lock them up where no-one can find them or something,” Darcy chipped in. “Or us.”

“Not that you can,” Loki pointed out before Thor could or the other Asgardians could.

Agent Coulson had explained what S.H.I.E.L.D. had been created for. As far as Loki could see, these people had merely adopted an unwieldy name for an acronym that only suggested defence and non-aggression. And they had no real experience dealing with extra-terrestrial threats.

The humans did not know--could not know--that to Asgardians and the Jötunns, they were the lesser race. The only reason why they condescended to wait and listen was because they were trying to head off a potential conflict over Thor and Loki’s presence on Midgard. At least Loki was certain than Sif and the Asgardians were--he was not so sure about his brothers and what had been planted in their heads.

“I am sure some compromise can be reached,” Coulson said diplomatically. And then Jane Foster and the others were distracted by the arrival of more black vans and more people who moved to confiscate their scientific equipment and pretty much anything they had that could record data.

Loki spared a moment to feel sorry for them--knowledge was precious and knowledge gleaned personally even more so--before he turned to the more pressing concern of his own fate. His and his spouse’s.

“What manner of compromise might that be?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the human.

“I don’t have the authority to promise you anything.” Truth, but also a tactic to buy time. “You’ll have to discuss this with Director Fury.”

"And what of Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Eric Selvig?" Thor demanded. Their unease about this government agency had rubbed off on him, Loki could tell.

Letting people into your house--no matter how temporary and derelict the house was--and sharing food with them also meant that they were _guests_ and it was a poor host who allowed their guests to be treated so shabbily. 

"We will speak to them," Coulson said neutrally. 

"They are intelligent, potentially useful people. You are not the sort who would let potentially useful people go to waste," Loki said to the Agent. To which they received a noncommittal _we shall see_ kind of noise. 

But Agent Coulson did leave them to go speak with the humans who had stumbled upon them by accident. Loki shifted to stand with his brothers, wondering--not for the first time--how long the enchantment which shielded them from the warm temperature of this Realm would last.

Helblindi gazed towards the western horizon restlessly. “Something comes.”

Once again, Loki cursed his now-limited senses. But Helblindi always had the keenest senses of them all, so both Loki and Býleistr took heed. “Danger?”

“Might be. This world is too strange.”

“Loki,” Býleistr said in as low a voice as he could manage. He spoke in an archaic dialect of their people so that their conversation could not be so easily understood even by those with the All-Tongue--his youngest brother was learning. “We should leave this place--speak no more with these mortals. Petition our dam and king to allow yourself and your mate to spend your exile on Jötunheim.”

“And freeze to death in the depths of winter?” Loki had thought about that. Then he thought of those who wished him ill in Jötunheim. They would not view Thor Odinson with much love either. And if the Odinson, in his currently vulnerable state, was to meet with an accident of some sort on Jötunheim, there would be war again and not even the All-Father would be able to deny that the Frost Giants had some hand in it.

“I will handle this. Give the signal and take our brother home. Do not come here again until our dam and king has spied out the land and ascertained that it is safe.” Whenever that was, Loki did not know. But Laufey was a cunning old campaigner--he would know that something was afoot by now.

Býleistr knew that his brother had a stubborn streak as wide as the River Viðr and it was not as though he and Helblindi could remain on Midgard forever without feeling the effects of the New Mexican climate.

A Frost Giant on the move was hard to miss. Two Frost Giants uncoiling and loping away with the natural speed of all their kind made the humans startle. 

“What--” The man Coulson’s words died on his lips as Helblindi and Býleistr were enveloped by a blue glow that rivalled the Bifrost for its brilliance.

“My king and dam summoned them home,” Loki stated shortly as the light dissipated and flat plains of the desert showed an evident lack of Frost Giants. He looked up at the sky, sensing at last what his brother had. “Now what is it that you humans say? _Take us to your leader?_ ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The effects of too much coffee and no sleep coupled with aliens in New Mexico were beginning to make themselves felt on Jane Foster’s head. She was on the brink of the most astounding discovery of the twenty-first century, but the agent had stated that she could not breathe a word of it to anyone.

When the anonymous black vans arrived and disgorged more dark-suited personnel, she had pretty much kissed her research and equipment good-bye. There was nothing to do except watch as her van was examined by strangers.

In spite of herself, Jane was intrigued by the devices protruding from the roof of the vans. “That’s some kind of jamming mechanism,” she whispered to Darcy and Erik. “They might be blocking this place off from any kind of surveillance.”

“What? We’re not on Google Maps anymore?” Darcy asked.

“Very possibly.”

But they were shooed away from the vans even as their equipment was poured over and carried off. “Ma’am, please stand clear.”

“It’s not like we can tell people about you,” Darcy muttered at the uniforms. But she had been distracted by the Giants or whatever they were leaving the party abruptly--real inter-dimensional travel--another thing they could not divulge for all that Jane’s fingers itched to turn on her equipment to measure the energy readings of that portal.

Actually, there had had been a lot that had not been said. Had not needed to say once the stealth jet had landed out in the desert and Coulson’s superior in the leather trenchcoat had arrived post-haste to scope out the situation. They were in it deep now.

Standing to one side with Erik and Darcy at her shoulder, Jane catalogued every piece of equipment that she had put together herself glumly, hating the thought of any damage that might result of mishandling.

“Not my iPod too!” Darcy complained as they were asked politely but firmly to turn out their pockets. They were probably scanned as well, but the agents might have done that discreetly.

Jane clung onto her laptop and her battered old notebook until the last possible moment.

She almost jumped the guy who had taken them, but was checked by Erik’s arm. “My research--”

"Jane, they can destroy your credibility without doing anything," Eric whispered to her urgently. "It's too much. Everything here is just too unbelievable with aliens thrown in."

He was right, Jane knew, but she rebelled internally over being silenced like this. A sentiment that was echoed by the mulish look on Darcy's face.

“I’m afraid Dr. Selvig is right.” Agent Coulson re-joined them, having left the alien pow-wow to his superior with the eye-patch. “This is too much for even the most credulous member of the scientific fraternity to believe.”

“They’d believe it with hard evidence,” Jane retorted.

“Yes, they might. However, your equipment and data will not be joining you." He looked apologetic for someone who was proposing to take her life's work away along with her material possessions to boot.

"But it has been pointed out that you and Dr. Selvig are a rare breed of scientist and Ms. Lewis still has a bright future somewhere," Agent Coulson continued. "We at S.H.I.E.L.D. are always on the lookout for a few good men and women." 

"What? You're bribing us with jobs now?" Darcy asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "I don't--"

"Before you decide, Ms Lewis, let me ask you a question. As a student of political science, what do you think will happen if news of aliens in New Mexico were to leak out? Coupled with the reality of inter-dimensional travel and the existence of a race of beings that humans used to call gods?" Phil Coulson's genial expression had not changed throughout the entire conversation. " _Before_ their intentions have been made clear?"

Darcy closed her mouth and pursed her lips at the rhetorical questions. _Nothing good_ was usually the first thing that happened. The uproar could destabilise the balance of power in the world if people could take this seriously enough.

"I believe you might need some time to think this through. How about a few days?" Agent Coulson offered. “We’ll be around and we’ll be in touch.”

"And you're letting us go just like that?" Jane looked around at the men in suits before turning her gaze back onto the agent.

"Yes, Dr. Foster, we are." 

"You ca--" Jane stopped when she realised that they _could_ just waltz off with her research and she would never see it again. Unless they accepted the agent's offer to continue her work under the aegis of their organisation, she would have to rebuild everything from scratch.

"You drive a hard bargain." Erik Selvig, having more experience of the world and its many traps and disappointments, had watched the proceedings with shadowed eyes. This was a breakthrough, sure enough, but real world politics had come into play. Knowledge, most scientists would agree, was meant to be shared. But knowledge of this magnitude was dangerous and incendiary.

"Think of it as being in the front row when the future arrives," Agent Coulson said encouragingly. "It's better than being shut out of the theatre all together."

Then the arrival of more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents gave them something more to gawk about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Clint.” Natasha inclined her head in his direction as they walked towards the jet.

“Natasha. Fancy meeting you here.”

They boarded the jet in companionable silence, knowing better than to discuss the details of this particular mission in front of people with lower clearance levels.

When they were airborne and en-route to New Mexico, they read their dossiers. Coulson had filled them in on the main gist of the current mission and it was _big_.

A big glorified baby-sitting job, never mind that they were watching _aliens_. Clint seldom did undercover detail while babysitting some bigwig--it was more of Natasha’s gig.

“Says here, Coulson has a place all tricked out,” Clint said as he perused the file.

“The safe house was already set up--they were planning to have personnel on the ground if Coulson’s team couldn’t find whatever caused the incursions soon.” Natasha set her file down and popped open a case that contained the necessary materials for this new assignment. “Convenient for us now.”

“So it’s really E.T.--that’s something new.” Satisfied with the intel, Clint reloaded his arrowheads and rechecked his gear. Some of the supplies were interesting to say the least. But that was a given, since aliens were involved. They sure had been equipped well beyond the usual mission perimeters.

“Stun blasts, knock-out gas, pepper spray . . . horse tranquilisers?”

“Just in case the knock-out gas doesn’t work.” Natasha checked her specialised weapons--going around as a pseudo-civilian did not mean that she was completely unarmed. “They are aliens after all.”

The pilot turned on the intercom soon after their preparations were completed. _“We’re approaching the drop zone in five minutes, agents. Prepare to suit up.”_

Now came the fun part . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Events were moving faster than Thor had anticipated. He was uncertain about how far they could trust this S.H.I.E.L.D.--they had been rather high-handed with the Lady Jane’s belongings.

Events had moved remarkably quickly once Coulson had contacted someone called “Director Fury”.

The man himself arrived a few hours later via one of those flying machines. His escort was minimal, but like the man Coulson, they moved like warriors--every muscle under control and alert to their surroundings. One of them was a woman, a fact that Sif looked upon with interest and approval.

The man whom Coulson deferred to was as dark as Heimdall and wore a palpable air of annoyance with the world and their current situation.

Nick Fury, when he was introduced, did not mince words.

"Firstly, Coulson tells me you are unlikely to be the scouting party for an alien invasion." His single eye, rather reminiscence of Odin All-Father’s scouring gaze, swept over their odd party--stray humans, Asgardians and the remaining Frost Giant. "I am inclined to believe him, but appearances can be deceiving."

"I assure you that if they had intended to conquer your little world, they would have done it a thousand years ago," Loki said dryly.

With a pointed look at Loki to check his tongue around the humans, Sif explained the current law about starting hostilities on Midgard. “This world is off-limits. There should be no wars started by the other eight Realms here. We will not overstay our welcome.”

“And yet you use this world as a dumping ground for your exiles?”

Thor could not argue with the man’s language, even though he was moved to impotent anger again. It was a sensation that had lost little of its original sting.

“It is only as temporary situation,” Fandral pointed out. “And while we cannot help them directly, it behoves us as friends of the princes to ask you for a measure of kindness to the future rulers of another Realm.”

“The people I work for do not trade in kindness,” Fury stated flatly. Layers upon layers--the humans had complicated hierarchies. Loki looked interested at this new fact.

“But they will trade,” Loki said, leaning forwards slightly. Sif and the others did not interfere--this was about their exile here on Midgard after all.

“That would depend on what you would have to offer.”

“We have lots of things you don’t know about,” Loki countered. “Things your scientists are _dying_ to know about. What have you got to offer?”

“Better accommodations, for one,” Fury said without changing his tone or expression. He must have noticed the old house though--or Coulson could have appraised him of the situation. “If you want to stay on Earth, you’ll need papers--ones that’ll get you further than the next state. Money, I’m sure you know about by now.”

“We can work for money,” Thor growled.

“Not legally.”

“Actually, we want assurances.” With a warning glance at Thor, Loki continued to elaborate on his point. “We’ve grown accustomed to being at liberty here on Midgard. It is not our intention to be your prisoners, no matter how beautifully glided a cage you offer.”

“I cannot promise that you will not be watched twenty-four-seven,” the man Fury informed them bluntly. “In fact, you _will_ be watched twenty-four-seven. You have no idea just how problematic your presence here will become.”

“Tell us then.”

“You don’t have the faintest clue about all the agencies, governments, secret organisations, criminals and whack-jobs that would like to get their hands on actual aliens,” Fury said, watching their faces as he listed these threats. “And since you are actually _important_ aliens, Earth is at risk of incurring the wrath of your respective peoples if anything happens to you. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Loki’s people could and would definitely use something like that as a pretext for war, Thor realised. The Asgardians knew it too.

“And so you see the problem,” Fury continued. “I can’t let you run around without proper surveillance and oversight, but you don’t want to be locked up. Fair enough--I can offer you protection, a better place to live, information in return for more information and future negotiations about your status.”

“Will you offer us jobs like your man offered Dr. Foster and her people?” Loki did have acute hearing and had no qualms about eavesdropping no matter how many times it was explained to him that it was not what princes did.

“Are you two even qualified?” Fury asked, deadpan. “It takes more than being an alien to be a part of my organisation.” 

“Have you any better suggestions? Our presence alone will result in questions, will it not?”

There was no muscle that betrayed Fury’s mood, but they could tell that he was ever so slightly impressed by Loki’s nerve.

“Would you like to further your education on Earth?” Fury offered shrewdly. “Since you’re going to be here for a while . . .”

“We shall have to see what kind of education there is to be had.” Loki kept his face bland, but Thor knew that he was seeing more advantages in Fury’s offer now.

“So can I take it that you will accept this temporary offer?”

“While you go report to your superiors and decide what to do with us next? Certainly,” Loki replied. “But know that we are not so easily lost or hidden.”

“Royalty seldom is,” Fury said without acknowledging the part about their fate being in the hands of others. “And what about your . . . brother?”

“My husband, actually.” Loki was as tired of skirting around or hiding the issue as Thor was.

“Your offer is acceptable for now.” As he spoke, Thor noticed the fleeting looks of surprise on the faces of the humans--they had not met any other species before and no doubt were as surprised as he was when the news of his engagement was announced.

“You’re married,” Fury said with the slightest lift of his eyebrows. He did not ask if the Asgardians had any say in the matter, which could mean that he had come to certain conclusions about the conditions of their exile here. “I suppose that’s one of the things you’ll have to tell my people about after you get settled in.”

“Would you like to hear of it in detail?” Loki asked archly, which was probably not the way to go about negotiations, but Fury did not appear to be any more annoyed.

“Sure, it’ll make the written reports a lot more interesting.” Not rising to the bait, Fury turned as one of his aides or guards signalled to him. “But it won’t be me you’ll be talking to. It’ll be _them_.”

He pointed upwards and two dozen pairs of eyes looked up. 

Two shapes materialised above them, circling slowly and gradually resolving themselves into two humans with some manner of suit that allowed them to free-fall at a controlled speed.

Even the other humans looked impressed by this feat as the pair landed neatly in the stretch of desert by the jet.

“The newest wingsuits with jet propulsion?” Fury asked Coulson.

“We had them dropped off as quickly and as stealthy as possible, sir. No ‘chutes--and they work fine according to the test results.”

“Lucky for them, you mean. That was a free-fall with no parachute attached.” But the man Fury was not displeased.

“Our minders?” Loki asked as the man and woman came to meet them at the Director’s command, already out of their wingsuits and looking completely unfazed by their journey so far.

“Bodyguards--for people as important yourselves.” Fury’s ever present sarcasm was probably amusing to Loki. “Agents Romanoff and Barton will be your baby-sitters and cover-story.”

The man saluted in a way that was just slightly ironic. These people respected the man Fury as their commander, but they were on good enough terms to take a few liberties. “Reporting for duty, sir. We only had to fly halfway ar--”

“Debriefing will come later, Barton.” Fury’s single eye swept over the four of them critically. “Now I have to go explain what has become of Mr. and Mrs. E.T. to the Council. If your alien-nesses will excuse me, I’ll be getting back to work now. I assume your friends are going home soon.”

The tails of his coat flapped briskly as the man swept off with his armed escort.

“Your leader is a rather busy man,” Thor observed.

“Director Fury has a number of things on his plate right now. Agents Barton and Romanoff will brief you on your covers and bring you to the safe house. I will have to speak with Dr Foster and her associates again. In the meantime, please do not schedule any more excursions into the desert,” Coulson said before directing his men to move out.

And they were left in the company of the sandy-haired man and his red-haired companion--she had been sizing up the Asgardians quietly.

“You should pack now--the house is not far away,” the red-haired woman said briskly. “We’ll get changed now and you can get briefed on the way.”

Sif and the others helped them--though their assistance was hardly required. Their belongings were limited to clothing, the journal of sorts that Loki had kept and the various odds and ends that they owned. The furniture would not be brought along, but there were some tools and tins of coffee left over.

“We’re leaving them for Joe--he collects things,” Thor said firmly, packing the loose items into a crate. “We’ll leave them in town for him to find.”

“Joe’s a homeless man,” Loki explained to the woman, now out of the dark suit that had covered her from neck to wrist and in civilian clothing. “He’s harmless.”

“Farewell again,” Thor said to Fandral, Sif and Hogun. “I will have to ask you to inform my mother of this development.”

“We will relay the news.” Sif looked at them in mock-sternness. “And stay out of trouble for a while.”

“Us? Surely not, Lady Sif,” Loki said demurely. “I only ask that any correspondence from my family be brought via your hands alone. My brothers should not be allowed out to play so often.”

So Loki had known of the risks. It was for the best then.

They saw the Asgardians off before looking over the dilapidated house one more time. Thor was still proud of the windows they had fixed. Loki looked as though he had more mixed feelings than he was willing to let on.

“It’s for the best,” Loki echoed Thor’s thoughts. “We should go now before nostalgia saps you of your will--amongst other things.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	17. Interlude: Inconstant Things

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late in the afternoon, but the high shelves of the Palace Library formed a great many shadowy corridors that stretched out in multiple directions. Dwarfed by the stacks of paper, Brenda paused and cast about searchingly.

“Well?”

“Sir?” Brenda looked around quizzically.

“Up here.” 

The page craned her neck and searched amongst the highest shelves. Something moved ever so slightly in the shadows that cloaked the topmost shelf of the bookcase she was standing in front of and she finally saw the prince she had been assigned to.

“You said I was to find you when there was news of Prince Thor.” She was also learning about his love of high places and hidey holes, but did not mention it. Princes were allowed a little eccentricity.

Loki climbed out of his reading corner nimbly with a number of scrolls tucked under one arm. “So he’s back.”

“Just arrived via the western gate. With the head of a giant wyrm.”

“I will never get that thing about the heads,” Loki muttered as he descended with the agility of a spider-monkey. Climbing the ice-cliffs had been much more challenging. And heads were for mounting on spikes so that you could show what happened to enemies of the crown.

“You’ll be going to meet him then?” Brenda had evidently taken his suggestion that she be more proactive about her work to heart.

“There will be a fete in his honour? Then back to my chambers.” He liked to be well-groomed for public appearances.

“Another bath?”

“Get Kerr to brush out the green cloak while I bathe,” he said, ignoring the little imp’s white-toothed grin.

Then Loki shifted so that he was in his blue and bare-chested form. He found that it made walking through the Palace easier because it discouraged hanger-ons and made him seem more foreign.

But Jötunn or not, the nobles and courtiers were growing bolder, staring at his progress openly and whispering behind their hands. Some of them were probably wondering if they should approach him.

Part of this was because of Thor. 

Thor never attended meetings on policies if he could help it. Thor never paid any attention to the people trying to lick his boots. He usually moved too fast for them to catch him, roaring about going some hunt or some quest or other when he was not out riding or sparing with his warrior friends. 

Laufey would have been impressed by how Thor managed to discourage his people from going to him for the thousand and one things they wanted his support for and yet remained well regarded because of his natural charisma. That or they knew they had an impartial future leader who would not favour _anyone_ at this rate.

It was almost brilliant and Loki was more than mildly pissed off because it meant that everyone who wanted to get Thor’s ear defaulted to him. And the fact that he was a Frost Giant was becoming less of a deterrent with time.

He supposed it was because he had not eaten any babies or been openly foreign. It made him seem slightly more approachable. And he had actually been _in_ the Palace for the past few weeks, unlike his spouse.

It might have been partly his fault. Or Thor’s. Or Freyja’s. He had no idea how long Freyja’s instruction would take. Thor had not actually asked him on the hunt, but Thor might not have known that observing a spell-casting would have taken that long. Or no-one could find him in this golden pile of a palace to pass along a message.

Communications should not have been so complicated.

But the result was that Loki and Thor had not managed to see each other for a day or two and Thor had been gone for who knew how long while he hunted some rare beast or other.

Who knew how long lasted for about two weeks by Loki’s count and he had grown rather frustrated by the first week. Both sexually frustrated and wondering how he was going to handle all these sycophants and merely curious Asgardians without slitting a few throats. 

But even Laufey had cut back on the throat-slitting in recent centuries and bodies were so hard to dispose of without a deserted tundra or two when it was not an official execution.

It was with this in mind that he returned to his quarters to bathe and dress himself carefully. He should not appear too eager. But he did not want Thor believe that his attentions were not welcome. 

As always, the armour-clad shadows of the pair of Valkyries peeled away from the corners they had been standing guard in and trailed him at distance, always ready to give any would-be assassin four feet of steel in the gut. 

Unlike the guards in the Palace, the Valkyries were trained to be _unobtrusive_ guards and Loki had been surprised once or twice when he had caught sight of them moving just at the corner of his field of vision. They would have annoyed him except that he knew them personally from all the times they enthusiastically tried to disembowel him during weapons practice. Loki and his mother-in-law had both agreed that the martial arts were vital and the Valkyries had been instructing him in the Asgardian mode of battle in addition to tailing him around the Palace.

They did not follow him into the bathroom, which he had warded carefully so that his guardians would not be necessary while he bathed or was involved in other things. Brenda refrained from making choice comments about his toilet least Loki improved his aim with the soap.

He had not merely been researching his position as co-consort in the library for the past month though. Additions had been made to his wardrobe. Asides from the fine silk robes that he liked to lounge in to spare the eyes of the maids and the proper riding gear, there had been more formal set of clothing--leather surcoats and robes for court. 

The strong material only suggested armour--a little toughness that was nevertheless flexible. Stark and adorned only with his gold torque, his manner of dress would draw the eye amidst the bright trappings of Asgard. If he had to be stared at, then he would do it on his terms.

Thus armed and armoured, he was formally announced at the feasting hall and took his place at his prince’s side.

In a move reminiscent of Loki’s sire, Thor presented the head of the giant wyrm he had slew by throwing it onto the floor of the feasting hall. He had not changed out of his light armour and riding leathers for dinner.

To Loki’s mild confusion, Thor dedicated the kill to his new spouse and everyone applauded. Was it traditional or something? What the hell was he supposed to do with the gory thing? He supposed that he could look up the master taxidermist again . . . or strip it of its flesh and wear it as a helm whenever he wanted to look especially savage.

He managed to nod graciously at the severed head and that was apparently the sign for everyone to start feasting.

“I got your note,” Loki stated once the mead started flowing.

“Thought you were mewed up with Father and his workings,” Thor said around a leg of mutton. “Or Freyja and her workings. I didn’t get a message.”

“I _was_. But not for two weeks,” Loki pointed out.

“You could come for the next hunt,” Thor offered in what must have been a conciliatory gesture.

Loki refrained from rolling his eyes. “If I actually knew about it and you don’t just run off because someone said to your father than something large was terrorising his sheep.”

But it would have to do for now until Loki could figure out how to track down people here short of tracking their scent. Which was difficult with so many scents mixed together with the smell of their beasts of burden and their pets here.

He almost feared that Thor would be too inebriated to stand after the feast, but to his surprise, his spouse was at his door after all that merry-making with a noticeable tent pitched in his riding leathers.

Their coupling was energetic and noisy with Thor taking him against the bathroom wall for starters, Thor eating him out on the bed and Thor pounding into his cunt after that. Loki had helped--Thor’s cock was just the right size for him to gag on and that was usually followed by Thor rolling him over onto the mattress and screwing him hard--questing or hunting seemed to sharpen his appetite for rough play during sex. 

Or perhaps he had been having a case of what Kerr referred to as the “blue balls” while wyrm-hunting. Whatever it was, his spouse had still been up for letting Loki’s prick have a turn at being sheathed in the tight warmth that Thor exuded all the time and Loki was in a much better mood by the end of their rutting.

He just hoped that he would not have to wait so long between the times he could go to bed sated and pleasantly sore. And hopefully they would produce a child soon to seal the bargain made on their alliance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The great wyrm had been a challenge to track and hunt--it was fond of its scaly hide and was a wily old beast. Which was why they had spent the better part of the first week chasing its spoor up and down the cliffs. Sif and the Warriors Three had soldiered on without too much complaint, but they obviously welcomed the comforts of home.

Which included the feasting, but not all of them were inclined to stay and drink until morning.

“Must get home--my wife probably misses me.” Volstagg looked at Thor meaningfully.

This was because Thor had made a comment about the weather one night and they had fallen into discussing about the best way to keep warm. Everyone except Sif had agreed that another warm body usually did the trick. Hogun might have agreed. Or grunted in agreement--you could never tell with Hogun.

_“You should have thought about that before leaving without asking your Jötunn prince if he would fancy a tumble in the bushes while roughing it out here with us,” Sif said, poking at their fire-pit with renewed vigour._

_“He was no-where to be found,” Thor muttered, toying with the bones of the small fowl they had consumed for supper._

_“A wife should not be left alone so soon after the wedding. I’d wager it’s the same for Jötunns,” Volstagg said sagely._

_“And they don’t mind doing it in public--I’ve seen it,” Sif said. “You did too, on Jötunheim.”_

_“I remembered a rather forward Jötunn making advances and then after a wild night, I woke up to him sucking my cock and ready for round number I-forgot-what,” Fandral said cheerfully. “My bedmate was not inclined towards pillow talk, it seems. What about you, Hogun?”_

_“A warrior should not be indiscreet.”_

_Fandral smiled widely--knowingly. “You had it off with one of them while we were in Utgard, didn’t you?”_

_All that talk about their sexual exploits brought to mind the time when Thor made his marriage bed in an ice cave lined with furs. Sitting as they were a great many leagues away from the comforts of civilisation, that cave seemed like a luxury indeed. And his loins remembered that encounter with some warmth._

Perhaps Thor had been a little remiss in not informing his spouse about his outing in person. But Loki had seemed much more interested in visiting Freyja or reading about the laws of Asgard.

It did not look good when Loki showed up, dressed to the nines and drawing every eye with his pale skin and dark clothing. His comments had been as acerbic as usual. But Thor had drank his mead and dedicated his kill to Loki before turning up hopefully at the door down the corridor from his own.

“It’s about bloody time,” Loki said before pulling him in and slinging him in the general direction of his bathing chamber. And then Thor could not get scrubbed fast enough for Loki, who decided to come in to help. And take what must have been his third bath of the day.

“We should go to Jötunheim one of these days if you fancy hunting so much,” Loki murmured, neck deep in the bathing pool after a vigorous round against the steam-slicked wall. 

“Your brother did promise me another warg-hunt,” Thor said, in a much better frame of mind and thinking that all was well with the world again.

And then he forgot about it until the next day, when Loki proposed the trip to Odin, who thought that it would be a good idea that they _both_ went. Right in front of his morning audience.

“A gesture of good will would not go amiss. And it would be advantageous to see what more there is on offer to trade.”

That got the courtiers talking. Jötunheim used to have nothing to offer the other Realms, but with the Casket returned, the possibilities were endless if Loki’s correspondence with his parents were anything to go by.

And so they were bombarded with requests from all and sundry.

Thor had always avoided this sort of thing. He did not have the patience to weed out who he ought to trust and who he would give concessions to. But this time, they were also clamouring for Loki’s attention because he was the only Frost Giant in Asgard.

“Like vultures,” Thor complained when they finally broke free for the noonday meal.

“Do not strain yourself. I will field their queries,” Loki said as though he was speaking to a child. And he sent his page off to fetch some documents or other.

Loki was, Thor noticed some hours later, still immured in his study with several reams of paper and not in those fetching silk robes he wore in his rooms when he was at leisure. It did not seem as though it was time to ask if his spouse would like to take an invigorating ride out to the lake for a swim and what Sif had so quaintly called a tumble in the bushes. His mother had been giving him the royal eyebrow about getting to know his spouse better--Thor knew that he had to make up for his absence before royal disapproval set in.

And Loki was not so free the next day either. Or when the younger nobles organised a hunt--mainly with the aim of seeing their new prince up close. Thor had to make the excuses and tried to ignore the prying questions. Most of them were about what it was like to mate with a Jötunn.

“The bloody cheek of it!” Thor fumed when he stormed back to the Palace and searching for a listening ear, found Loki still in his study behind a wall of scrolls and account books.

“Now you know what I’ve had to contend with,” Loki said, not particularly sympathetic. He had sent his page away on some errand so that Thor could rant in private. “You should just tell them that I’m hairless all the way down there and that I do, in fact, have a cunt--”

“I’d rather chase a boar through the nettle bushes than talk about that!”

“It would shut them up for a while.” Loki smirked slightly, for he seemed to enjoy pricking people to see their reactions. “We’re not shy on Jötunheim, but we’re not _endlessly_ fascinated by the act. You’ll be away from all that when we go to Utgard anyhow.”

“Are you still looking through those requests for trade concessions?” Thor asked over the pile of papers. 

“I’m trying to see who is offering the largest bribe to get their grubby hands on Jötunheim's first exports in a thousand years. You could help,” Loki said, offered him a particularly thick scroll.

“Don’t trust Lord Styr,” Thor said automatically. “And Lord Burr has been known to given short measure from what I’ve heard of him and his dealings.”

“How do you know all this?” Leaning forwards, scroll forgotten, Loki actually looked interested.

“Because I dislike Styr’s son heartily and that insolent cur boasts about his conquests from the lowest maid to the highest lady. You might have heard his bleating, if you had been at the hunt,” Thor added. “They are mean to their servants and servants will talk in the taverns.”

“You’re actually quite good at feeling out your subjects,” Loki said thoughtfully. “ _You_ should be the one weeding this list.”

“If you knew what I knew, would you treat with them impartially?” Thor asked. “I have not the patience.”

Loki arched a dark brow. “And you would rather punch them than barter with them?”

“I would have had the fools chased through the streets with hounds.” Thor was generally uncomfortable amongst those who did not believe in straight dealing.

“That might be half of Asgard,” Loki quipped unapologetically.

“You do not like them either, but you’ll still treat with them.”

“It’s why I married into your family,” Loki said as he looked up from some tally of goods. “And it’s _my_ world’s future at stake after all.”

“Your world is better off without the vultures picking at it,” Thor said, but without heat.

“We’ll pluck them in return,” Loki replied. “It’s trade after all. Now you can either make yourself useful or go bathe. I’m not getting into bed with you if you’re all sweaty and unwashed from the hunt.”

Thor rightly took this as an invitation to visit Loki’s bed and left before he could be press-ganged into doing work or tangled in another argument.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki Laufeyson returned to Jötunheim with less fanfare than when he left. Then again he had a much smaller escort, the Casket had been in Laufey’s hands for a few months and it was not in the company of Odin All-Father. His spouse was with him, but Thor Odinson did not quite have the _gravitas_ that the old sorcerer had. He was still an improvement over the sharp-eyed lordlings that had been brave enough to come to see for themselves what could be harvested from the frozen world though. 

Truly, like vultures--which Thor had explained were a sort of bird that feasted on dead meat when they had been out exploring Asgard. Necessary vultures, unfortunately.

But he marvelled with the Asgardians in his escort at the gleaming spires of Utgard, newly raised in the months after his marriage. Except for the Valkyries--as a rule, they did not express anything while on duty.

They were met at the citadel by Býleistr and a contingent of officials.

“Our king and dam is not keeping court--he is out and about as usual,” Býleistr informed them. “It’s a busy time, as you can see.”

The Jötunns around them were not busy enough to avoid staring at the Asgardians, but there was a certain amount of calculation about the stares now. A great many people were seeing the potential to benefit from inter-Realm trade now. To be fair, the Asgardians were staring back in the same way the merchants in their markets watched the weighing of flour.

The actual wrangling would take place inside the royal enclosure--rooms had been provided for this purpose. Some of the lordlings wanted to start at once, a sentiment echoed by their counterparts on the side of the Frost Giants.

“Leave them to the boring details of how many casks of whale fat and bales of leather they want,” his brother said to him. “Helblindi has called for a hunt. You are most welcome to join in.”

That last was address to Thor, who looked pleased at not having to stay to talk about things like weights and measures.

“I will find him. Make yourselves comfortable,” Loki said offhandedly before loping away in search of his king and dam. Ignoring the murmur of dismay that arose behind him, he trotted through the expanding citadel, marking what had changed since his marriage. If they were going to have cooperation, they would have to learn to talk to the other Jötnar by themselves without him as a buffer.

He had not lied--not exactly. But he would speak to his parent away from Asgard’s prying eyes and before they could get Laufey to agree to any concessions. Not that he imagined that Laufey would not squeeze them for all they were worth.

Laufey was not keeping court. Laufey was overseeing the rebuilding. Laufey was on the ground, speaking with the hunters and trackers he had sent out to check on the burgeoning ecosystems.

And Laufey was a slippery bastard to catch because he had no intention of holding court. Too many things to be done without inference from others eager to have a say in the rebuilding, Loki supposed. He caught up with his king and dam atop the expanding walls of Utgard, west of the River Viðr. The ramparts were raw ice at the moment, but not an obstacle to anyone who had grown up here.

“Skipping out of your duties?” Loki asked, looking down at what his dam and king was observing.

Sif and the few Asgardians who were not involved in trade were sparring with the local guards, ducking and rolling in flurries of loose snow. In a while, Helblindi would probably gather them for the hunt.

“Still working--a concept possibly foreign to your generation. The Asgardians look like they are enjoying themselves though,” Laufey observed. “Even the female ones for all that they are said to seldom fight.”

“Not Sif. She volunteered to come. Sif likes being in a place where people do not talk to her tits most of the time.” Or talk about her getting married and settling down like a good Asgardian maiden.

“She has not been in Fárbauti’s presence for any length of time--your sire has an appreciation for robust mammary glands.” Laufey looked amused as he mentioned his mate’s odd preferences.

“So has Thor and Thor’s friend Fandral.” Loki let his dam lead him into a tunnel that led into an antechamber of sorts in the extension of the citadel. Laufey had his field offices or something similar there, with maps and plans carved into the walls.

“Does he chase others outside the marriage bed?” Laufey had _some_ knowledge of the mating rituals of other species, having had an adventurous youth--though not half as adventurous as Fárbauti’s. The older generation had travelled a lot more. _Raided_ the other Realms, actually, but it was not politically correct to use that term.

“He _looks_ sometimes. I know not if he has bedded any of the tavern wenches, but I doubt he’ll tumble the serving maids or the stable boys--he’s not in the habit of it.” 

The Lady Frigga was quite strongly against anyone taking advantage of the servants. Kerr had informed him that certain nobles had been thrown out and curtly given the directions to the pleasure quarters before. Even princes would not be exempt from Frigga’s ire if they broke the queen’s rules.

“The Asgardians do not have the same courtship rituals as we do.” Loki could not tell if Laufey was trying to pacify him or merely stating a fact.

“No--and I cannot imagine Thor singing or composing poetry to charm some maiden. He would rather fight someone for it, but most Aesir women are not bedded so readily without their consent.” 

Or married for that matter--it was usually disastrous for both families to marry a girl off to a man she did not approve of. A loving wife, like Volstagg’s lady, would see to her man’s comfort, while an unwilling bride would make her husband’s life a living hell.

Loki’s position as consort to the Prince was not so clear. The servants took care of everything and the one need that Thor sought Loki out for was the mutual reason that they shared a bed occasionally.

“They have not grown prudish, have they?”

“No, definitely not,” Loki said, remembering their last coupling more fondly than the quarrels they had over matters that seemed quite small now that he had time to think on them. Like the one about going to Jötunheim.

“I see.”

The pause was more pregnant than Loki was at the moment.

“You are probably adjusting to a new environment,” his dam said matter-of-factly. “Remember that it took me almost another century to get with your brother.”

“Will we have a century to get a child on me?” Loki sighed. The threat of assassination had been too real. Asgard was not truly secure.

“A child takes patience to get and even more patience to hold.” His dam’s eyes rested on him for a moment. “Some more than others.”

It was true that Loki had been a problematic child for all that he had been smaller than normal. Coming into his magic early meant that his growing pains had been rather extreme. The final manifestation of his magic that confirmed him as sorcerer had made life a lot more exciting around Utgard as the random explosions could attest to.

Then he had gained the ability to shape-shift and there had been a time when Loki never wore the same shape from week to week. Getting stuck in a particular form for a month had been traumatising for both Loki _and_ his family.

And there had been the long centuries of sexual maturity without the actual sex as it were. A sexually frustrated sorcerer was something that had not been seen in an age. There were good reasons for that. Loki’s frustrations spilled over in elaborate pranks, random outings that stretched on for months and that year when he did not speak a single word. Even Fárbauti had been perturbed by it.

“I would hope that my child would not take after me,” Loki said at last. “If and when it comes so that our legendary fertility is not disproved.”

“There was a third child. Between Helblindi and Byleistr,” Laufey said without emotion. “It did not live long enough to be born properly. For every one sired, many do not live.”

Loki bowed his head slightly, neither shocked or surprised by the implication of his dam’s words. They did not mourn those who had never lived to see the winter, but they could remember them. This brother he had never seen had been taken back by the winter and might be reborn again one day, when it might have more of a chance to survive to adulthood.

The solemn mood was broken when Fárbauti entered, easily bearing a fish the length of his arm that probably weighed more than Loki’s page Brenda.

“The prodigal returns.” Fárbauti’s voice might have been audible on the other side of the citadel.

“You smell of fish.”

“That’s what happens when you go fishing and gut your own catch.” His sire made to touch him with one scale-encrusted hand and laughed hugely when Loki shed away. “Where is the Asgardian prince? Your mate? I smell Asgardians in the city.”

“Out hunting with Helblindi and Byleistr. The Lady Frigga might ban him from bringing back another warg-head, I fear.”

“You did not join them.” It was not a question. Fárbauti’s eyes settled on Loki and Laufey knowingly.

Fárbauti’s talents were more akin to Helblindi’s--he could sense the quickening of a womb in the same way that a healer or a mid-wife could. Somehow or other, his natural abilities had been rather overshadowed by his penchant for taking heads and he had walked the warrior’s path. But he knew that Loki was not with child and was speaking to his dam privately about the matter.

“Surely you don’t expect to get a child from a few months’ worth of poking by an Asgardian prick?” Fárbauti asked.

“You said you got Laufey with me the first time you two mated,” Loki said accusingly.

“Reports of your conception may have been greatly exaggerated,” Laufey muttered as he pretended to look at a schematic of the west wall.

“Within the first few times anyway.” Fárbauti did not look the least bit contrite. “And the Asgardians are not half as fecund as we are. Should I speak to your mate about it?”

“ _No!_ ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki was obviously pleased at visiting his home again. But he had not joined them when Helblindi called for a hunt--it seemed as though he had to speak with his parents are some length.

Clinging onto rough sleds drawn by a sort of dog-like lizard, Thor and his friends were treated to an exhilarating ride through several ice canyons. The Frost Giants kept up with no apparent effort. It was certainly much more exciting than listening to people argue about taxation on exports.

When they finally halted, Helblindi began to search for warg-spoor. Accompanied by Sif and Hogun who were curious about such things, they combed the floor of a particular canyon that was a known retreat of frost-wargs. 

Býleistr suggested that he and Thor could climb onto an outcropping to see if they could spot any movement from above.

“Loki does not hunt?” Thor asked Býleistr as they reached a relatively flat shelf. He was the more articulate of the royal brothers--if anything, he might be able to shed some light on Loki’s behaviour.

Býleistr’s gaze swept the canyon walls from their perch and he signalled the other hunters to fan out to the east. “Oh he hunts. He is quite good at tracking prey, but I expect he has other things on his mind right now.”

“The matter he is speaking to Laufey-king about?”

Býleistr looked away and Thor realised that the Frost Giant was slightly discomfited. “It’s not our place to say, but it would be good if our brother was to have a child.” 

“I thought that was the general plan,” Thor said, wondering if the other prince had brought him up here to speak of this matter privately. “But there is no real hurry, is there?”

“It’s . . . a true coming of age,” Býleistr said carefully, no longer actively looking for a frost-warg. “Those who cannot bear are usually treated with pity and it is not good for them in the long run.”

“How so?”

“Breeding is supposed to come naturally to us, as they say in the Nine Realms. My brother had a great many issues stemming from his fitness to bear the next in line for the throne--a duty he was relieved of when Helblindi was born. But I do not think it is any less pressurising to have to bear an heir for Asgard. A two-fold burden for my brother--who is the sort to run out and prove himself with the others in his age group for his first hunt even though he had to take three paces for every one of theirs.”

It was the longest speech Thor had heard from this particular brother and he tried to make some sense of it.

“So he is under some sort of strain because of it?”

“My brother is a contrary, sharp-tongued beast--this we know, but he is like brittle ice sometimes too. It is not often that we would ask anyone to be kind to one of our own, but if he proves incapable . . .”

Thor’s brain had to scramble to understand what the other prince was saying. “But your sire has assured me that he is fertile.”

“ _Fertile_ does not mean he is able to carry a child to term,” Býleistr said patiently. He then appeared to give the Frost Giant equivalent of a sigh. “There are many things that contribute to a successful pregnancy--Helblindi is actually much better at explaining this than I am and he’s probably going to have half a dozen children without even trying very hard once he reaches his coming of age.”

“We have excellent healers in Asgard--your brother will be taken care of.” No doubt Loki’s brothers were concerned about him--and the alliance that hinged on Loki actually birthing an heir.

“I was more concerned about what would happen to _Loki_. He does not take failure well,” Býleistr told him. “And if he knew what I had just said to you, I would not take bets on my life expectancy in the near future.”

It occurred to Thor that being pitied by you own siblings might be ten times worse than the stares of strangers. Not having and siblings of his own, he did not know if this was typical of siblings trying to protect one of their own or the Jötunn way of expressing concern. Bearing a child was the most desirable achievement amongst Loki's people, Thor knew, but . . .

“You believe he might persist in having a child even though it could kill him?”

Býleistr made a warding gesture--against what Thor did not know. “I did not say that. We don’t talk about that sort of thing around him,” he said in explanation. “But that could be how our brother sees it.” 

“Thank you for telling me this, I think,” Thor said, privately resolving that Loki would know nothing of this conversation. He was prickly enough as it was without his abilities being called to question.

“It is not what I would call a kindness. But it might have been you and I wedded for the sake of this Realm, Asgardian prince,” Býleistr reminded him. “Laufey never renegotiated because the clan chiefs would not have agreed to Hellblindi going to Asgard. And here on Jötunheim, _I_ am considered the spare.”

“Loki was not--”

“His position was nebulous to say the least. I believe my brother also wanted to prove himself in some way so that he might have what you call the last word even if he could not succeed our king and dam.”

That, Thor reflected glumly, fitted with what he had seen of his spouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	18. Aliens in Suburbia / He used to lift the elephant (Day One Hundred and Twenty-Five and Six)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between their accidental discovery by Jane Foster and company, Coulson’s visit and meeting with Director Fury, most of the day had gone by the time Loki and Thor joined the man Barton and the woman Romanoff in a weathered RV--or a mobile set of living quarters mounted on wheels that had been provided for their “cover”. They had no doubt that other S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel would be following their movements after what Fury had said, but they would be discrete about it.

They picked up Chinese for dinner from the Golden Phoenix on the way through town. A crate of their stuff was left for possible-maybe-Joe in an alley that was on his collection route. Loki had to tell Rachel Wu that he might be busy with a change in living arrangements for a few days and the girls down at the laundromat waved at them from across the street as they piled back into the old RV with their containers of food.

“We’re Clinton and Natasha Black--your new landlords. You were waiting for us to come along to open up this property that Uncle Charley left me so that I could rent it to you cheap,” the sandy-haired man informed them over fried noodles, stir-fried pork and crispy wontons in a dimly-lit parking lot outside the local Walmart. Having donned a t-shirt and jeans, Clint Barton now looked like a regular Midgardian resident of any town.

“Because?” Loki looked more interested in these proceedings than the food. The interior of the realistically furnished RV was cramped and with four people--himself and Loki included--inside, there was hardly any room left to twitch as they ate their noodles from white cardboard cartons and drank tea from cans. 

Romanoff and Barton were easily shorter and less bulky than Loki and Thor, but it was unlikely that they had been packed off with a pair of unskilled warriors. For all that the woman was small, curvy and delicate in appearance, she moved like Sif. No, these were competent humans trusted by the man Coulson and their leader Fury.

“Because we know each other from way back. Best to establish that story properly now. You call me Clint because we know each other.” 

Loki nodded. “And where shall we say we know you from?”

Clint looked them up and down. “If you haven’t told any other stories, you can say we knew each other from the circus. Travelling performers, stage names, no fixed addresses and multiple nationalities.”

“Your man Coulson works fast.” Loki looked impressed despite himself that Coulson had noticed so much in so little time. Thor was content to let Loki question the humans about how they were going to adopt these false identities for now. It was not new after the months spent on Midgard, but he was never one for subterfuge.

“It’s his job,” the woman stated. Her expression remained as impassive as a Valkyrie’s as she opened a bulky silver brief case she had received earlier and laid out certain items on the foldable table in the RV. “Clint left the circus to marry me. That’s why you lost touch temporarily. These are your passports. British and Austrian to explain the accents. Well-stamped too--you’ve been in and out of the country a lot. That’s why you don’t have a permanent address.”

Somehow or other, the man Coulson had managed to get photographs for the fake documents that looked travel-worn and remarkably genuine. Thor knew that it took time to develop and print images, but the booklets were probably only hours old.

“Temporary work visas can be arranged to back up the travelling performer back-story.” Draining his can of tea, the man Clint managed to scan the parking lot from the window of the RV without appearing to do so--a useful trick. “People usually take a few days off to move and settle in--that’ll explain why you’ve not been at work. Natasha and I are helping you with the move, by the way.”

These people were used to assuming new personas very quickly. While he was not an expert on these things, that sort of application practically screamed _spy_ to Thor.

"And if people wonder why you took so long in coming?"

"I had to finish a contract in Vegas," Clint replied. "One of those stunt shows."

"We've been married three years in case you're asked about us." The woman looked perfectly comfortable working with the man Barton--there was a casual familiarity about their interaction that was unfeigned. They could probably pull off the married couple act extremely well if Thor was any judge of how the humans behaved around each other. "I moonlight as a magician's assistant. Currently between gigs at the moment. So we’re also on an extended vacation."

Loki was more interested in the items she set out next even as he absorbed the details provided. "Cell phones for you both. Relevant numbers already programmed."

The electronic devices gleamed dully on the table--another tool they would need to learn to use once they received it. "I suppose they can be used to track our movements as well?" 

"It's necessary. Unless you want to be handcuffed to one of us--which would take a lot more explaining."

"Beyond a magic trick gone seriously wrong or kinky sex gone wrong--which is what everyone would think anyway," Clint commented with a wry twitch of his lips. "Natasha, are we still on schedule?"

"Yes. We take them to the house now to air it out and presumably let them have a look around." She had not even looked at a timepiece.

“And keep an eye on us, no doubt.”

“That is the point, yes.” The woman swept up the items and replaced them in the case. “We will go through primary evacuation drills tonight at the house. The rest of the briefing can wait until tomorrow.”

“You’ve done this before--but not for visitors like us.”

"It's not as though we have ready-made orientation kits for visiting aliens. Though they’re probably getting on that right now in case you’ve made us a popular destination for alien tourists." Clint disposed of the cartons and containers from dinner while Natasha picked up bargain bed sheets and toiletries from Walmart before they headed off again.

They drove into the suburbs--or what passed for suburbia around here--an estate of identical houses separated by walls, some occupied and some empty like the one they were to occupy just outside the main part of town. The house of Clint’s fictional Uncle Charley turned out to be a two-storey stand-alone surrounded by a weedy lot posing as a garden. The ground was stubbornly putting out growth despite the obvious neglect. 

The paint was peeling a little, but there were signs that humans had been around to do things like add functional locks. The windows were sound and the hinges did not creak when Barton opened the gate to let the RV through. Further signs of repair showed when they passed through the front door and turned on the lights--actual electric lights. 

Inside the house, the scant furnishings were covered in grey sheets, but someone had made an effort to sweep the floor clean.

Running through the evacuation drills, they were introduced to the basement, the corners with the thickest walls and three possible escape routes in case of a hostile attack.

“The bathroom window open outwards and the roof outside slopes down into the backyard--the drop’s manageable,” the man Clint said as he showed them the aforementioned window. Thor was certain that normal humans would not be asked to slide off a roof unless dire circumstances were involved, but Barton and Romanoff had probably been assessing their capabilities as well.

“We’ll be downstairs, keeping an eye on things,” Clint finished. “Feel free to ask about anything. No guarantees about the answers though.”

“Do you expect us to believe that you are just guards?” Loki asked sharply.

The woman actually allowed a trace of amusement to colour her expression. “No, of course not. But unless orders change, we’re going to keep you alive to the best of our ability.”

“They meant that last part at least,” Loki said when the two humans went downstairs, leaving them in the front bedroom with the sheets and their bags of clothing. 

“So we can sleep in peace for a night,” Thor agreed. _Until orders change . . ._ When had he heard that before?

They had been awake for over twenty hours of the Midgardian day. If not for the apples, they would have dropped where they were standing. 

“Not before a bath.” Loki headed for the bathroom, shedding his shirt along the way. “Heated water--actual heated water.”

Thor was not that good at reading cues from after less than a year of marriage, but the long day had not dulled the edge of his appetite.

Loki did not seem surprised when he entered the bathroom, only turning his head sideways under the stream of warm water as if to say _what took you so long?_

Striding over the small pile of jeans and underwear on the floor, Thor entered the shower area--thankfully not a flimsy walled-in cubicle--and ducked his head under the spray.

Loki opened his eyes and sighed as Thor slipped in behind him.

“Gods, do I have to retrain you? No clothing in the shower.” 

Thor took his time with his clothing though, so much so that Loki turned around with a growl of frustration to wrestle his t-shirt off.

The sight of a dripping wet and aroused Loki was usually quite enough to get Thor going these days, but this time, he wanted to linger a while longer on the long column of Loki’s neck even as impatient fingers flexed against his neck and the skin of his back. 

Loki did produce a rather satisfying noise when Thor sucked long and hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Even if it did sound rather like _ssshitThorfuckmenooowdammit_ over the sound of water hitting tile. 

Thor did not see where Loki had pulled the condom out from--Loki did have a knack for sleight-of-hand after all and there was no time to marvel at this trick for he had to concentrate on getting his jeans off and the rubber sheath on.

Wide palms braced themselves on his shoulders as Loki exercised a very specific set of muscles that allowed him to swing his legs around Thor’s waist. In tandem with these actions, Thor’s hands slipped down to cup those pert buttocks for support as Loki shifted up and positioned himself just so--

Thor hissed audibly as he was engulfed in the slick warmth--then growled as Loki clamped down around him. It was easy to let go then--to pound into the willing body wrapped around his torso as Loki urged him on between long shuddering breaths. Had it only been a week since they had coupled? It felt like three times that. Or perhaps it was the apples and the impossibly long day they had experienced.

They spent themselves relatively quickly this time, not really caring about the noise they made as they rutted. Thor barely registered the warm spurt of Loki’s release through the spray of the shower and sluggish contentedness that followed.

Loki finally opened his eyes, fingers slackening their hold around Thor’s neck. “Soap and shampoo’s still in the bag.”

“Yeah.” Thor rested his weight on his arms, propped up against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. “You forgot to bring them in.”

“ _Whoops_ , as the humans say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint Barton turned the sound on the monitors off even as a muffled thumping noise was heard through the ceiling. “I suppose we should be glad Uncle Charley didn’t live in a semi-detached house. Not sure about those Ikea beds though.”

Coming back in from giving the motion sensors scattered around the perimeter a once over, Natasha raised an eyebrow at the screen. The system of bugs and cameras that Coulson’s people had installed ever so recently was nigh unnoticeable unless you were S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. “So they maybe really were just waiting for a shower and a quickie.”

“Or maybe aliens are just horny.”

“Whatever it is, they’re keeping busy. We might as well get some shut-eye while we can. This place is wired up so that even a stray cat crossing the yard would trigger the system.”

“I think they’re going for round two just about now,” Clint remarked as the action moved into the bedroom. “Bet they’ll ask for more condoms tomorrow. Oh hey--there’s Alien Biology 101 for you.”

“Already recorded for the boffins. They’ll have a lot of material to analyse.” Natasha had also checked their communication channels. Right this very moment, dedicated satellites were making this the most watched neighbourhood on the continent without appearing to do so.

Clint smiled a little at the understatement. “Which is probably more fun than reporting this to the Council. I can imagine Fury’s face now.”

“He’s the Director--that’s why he gets to deal with the Council.” Like all spies, Fury dealt in secrets. But as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he actually had to report certain secrets to the WSC. Rather than say, babysit the current biggest secret on Earth at the moment by himself--a task he sometimes seemed to prefer over dealing with the administrative side of things.

“Eww.” Clint made a face. “Still, someone’s got to do it though. Can you imagine trying to explain _that_ to the Council?”

“Maybe one day, he’ll just give them the visuals instead.” Natasha looked up at the ceiling. “Let’s set up those sound dampeners though.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick Fury liked to stand while addressing the Council. It was his own private fuck-you to the WSC. He was a soldier first and a bureaucrat second--a rather distant second at that. A fact he liked to remind the pencil-pushers on the council. Some of them were former intelligence, some of them ex-military, but at the moment they were sitting behind desks and asking the kind of questions people sitting behind desks asked.

“The SOPs are out of date,” Fury explained again to the screens. “There’s nothing in them about aliens from another dimension who’ve been working part-time in a small town in New Mexico because they were turfed out of their home world.” 

Fury took a deep breath. “No spaceships, no grey-skinned, bulbous-headed aliens crashing landing in Roswell. If they had alien tech with them, they’re hiding it well.”

_“But are they contained? What if they’re carrying contagious alien diseases?”_

“It would be too late, as they have been on Earth for well over three months and have interacted with a significant number of people,” Fury said, manfully not adding _which you would have known already if you had read the file forwarded to you earlier_. “I would suggest not calling in the CDC yet--my people are still collecting samples and running tests.”

One dimly back-lit figure leaned forwards onscreen. _“What kind of contact?”_

“S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel are working on that while they brief the visitors,” Fury replied, but he could not stop the thin sliver of sarcasm that leaked into his next words. “I’m sure they’ll find out if the aliens have been trying to impregnate the locals.”

A second dark-suited figure straightened up in its chair. _“Director Fury, this is not a joking matter--”_

“--Which we are responding to very seriously by not making too many assumptions until we can be reasonably sure of their intentions and capabilities.” Fury really wished that people would read the damn memos sometimes. “Dealing with an alien race means that all bets are off. Doubly so if they can access our world, but we can’t touch them.”

 _“Are you suggesting that we arm the nukes?”_ A hawk--ex-military if Fury was any judge.

“We’re keeping an eye on them. Nukes are still an option.” Preferably as a last resort because all hell would break loose if any of the world powers suspected one of the others of utilising a nuclear weapon. “We’re hoping to establish some kind of two-way communication.”

 _“Should we appoint you as a diplomatic envoy now, Director Fury?”_ Definitely a trace of amusement there.

Fury did not curse--in fact he almost whooped because he had them where he wanted them now. “Certain executive overrides would be required, of course. I made a list.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They got around to bathing at last--shampooing and lathering themselves clean. Or at least to Loki’s satisfaction.

Which was followed by the vigorous breaking in of the new mattress. Still not the massive feather and down rafts of Asgard, but they made do. They made do until Loki was howling into the discount sheets, the tension of the past day--the past week actually--draining away. Enough for sleep to find him and pull him under into its comforting embrace.

When Loki woke, he felt the restlessness that usually accompanied change. This was something different at last in their exile. True, he had told his brothers not to visit Earth for now, but this was going to be tricky even without the looming presence of other Frost Giants to remind the humans that they were not alone in the multiverse.

He looked forward to seeing just how accommodating these humans would be. After a drink of water and the joys of the flush-toilet, of course.

Thor was still supine on the bed when he emerged from the bathroom, but he had been disturbed by Loki’s movements. “What time is it now?” he muttered without opening his eyes. Thor would normally have been at work by now.

“Well past nine,” Loki said after looking at display of the mobile phone on the nightstand--the only other piece of furniture in the room. He moved to dress himself, but realised that he was probably not going to the Golden Phoenix that day. Habits died hard--even the ones formed here. “Our guardians have not roused us yet. Though I do believe they are awake.”

There had been the sound of people moving about from the first floor, which was a sign that the humans were letting them know that they were there or pretending to do normal everyday things. Barton and Romanoff--or Clint and Natasha--could probably operate without making any noise at all.

“They’re still waiting for news from their leader.”

“Probably.” Loki eyed the splendidly nude form on the bed and felt a rush of heat that went straight to his loins. Idunn’s apples had markedly different effects on human bodies, it seemed. His libido was overriding everything with a vengeance after being denied.

Thor’s eyes were open now and he probably did not miss the look that Loki had given him. Or the fact that Loki’s hand had wandered over to cup his balls. “You’ll make them wait anyhow.”

“Why not?” Loki climbed onto the bed and lowered his head to take Thor’s member into his mouth. The fact that Thor hardened almost immediately was a sign that the apples had done their work and then some.

Why not, indeed. There might not be time for this later. And it might not do to have lascivious thoughts while meeting with Fury or whoever Fury sent to deal with them. Too distracting . . .

Like Thor’s fingers, which had found their way between his legs and his other hand, resting on his hip and urging Loki to move. He shifted obligingly and continued his ministrations even as a warm tongue swiped his clit and made him shudder around the cock he was working into his mouth.

Loki almost did not notice when the door opened and then shut itself very quickly as Agent Barton beat a hasty retreat downstairs. _Let them wait_ , he thought before that thought was shoved under the metaphorical carpet by the not-very-metaphorical tongue delving inside him.

They showered after that--Loki desiring to test the humans’ patience and enjoy the benefits of their stay as much as he could. Clint and Natasha did not look particularly impatient when they finally descended, sitting around the small dining table with coffee mugs and a number of electronic devices.

“I think you need a little privacy sign. Or learn to lock the door,” Clint pointed out. He was a lot less formal and more prone to familiarity compared to his female compatriot.

“But Agent Barton, we were specifically instructed not to for security reasons,” Loki said guilelessly.

“Whatever it is, you’re doing your own laundry. Coulson’s coming to pick you up for brunch, so you might as well do the sheets at the same time.” Clint looked at his watch. “Which would be in . . . five minutes.”

True to his prediction, Agent Coulson arrived five minutes later in a much less attention-drawing rental car. Fury had appointed him as a sort of envoy or go-between.

“I love the breakfasts they do here at the local diner,” Phil Coulson said cheerfully as he brought them and their sheets into Main Street. Thor agreed with him and they were soon tucking into mountainous plates of pancakes, eggs and sausages in a quiet corner.

“The Director has the go-ahead to authorise a proper deal,” Coulson said over his orange juice. “Now all that remains is to finalise it. He would like to know if any of your people will be involved though.”

“That remains to be seen. Our people, as you call them, are actually forbidden from interfering directly.” _With your world_ \--that was the unspoken rule that Loki had brought up. There were few people taking brunch this late in the morning in the diner, but it paid to be cautious around the humans.

“When can we get an update?”

“Within a month, I expect.” Loki did not look at Thor to confirm what he already knew. Even the Lady Frigga would have to tread carefully when raising the issue of making contact with the Midgardians.

“I’ll tell the Director that.” Agent Coulson wiped his mouth with his napkin fastidiously. “Oh, and Dr. Foster would like to speak with you later in the afternoon.”

Loki opened his eyes wide. “Does she? The poor lady was rather upset when you made off with her equipment.”

“She’s currently in the middle of making a career-changing decision and would like your input,” Coulson said without turning a hair at that barb.

Thor frowned a little at this news. “Tell the Lady Jane that we would be honoured to meet her again.”

“Then I’ll bring her over to the house later. Barton tells me that you’ve got a few more things to shift over from your previous place and some laundry to do.”

They kept up the fiction of their move by collecting the chairs and a few other sticks of furniture from where they used to squat and strapping them to the roof of the rental car. When they returned back to the house, they were slightly surprised by the sight of the painted archery target set up in the weedy garden and Clint Barton putting arrow after arrow into the bulls-eye.

“A little eccentricity usually sells it,” Natasha said from where she was standing at the plastic lawn table with a jug of something that looked like juice with ice. The occasional resident of the neighbourhood drifted past the gate--either to stare at the archer or in the case of a few adolescent males, stare at the red-haired woman in the tight shorts and tank top. Some of them waved tentatively or offered greetings.

Shortly after, the trio of girls from the laundromat arrived on their bicycles to gawk, having followed them from the centre of town via the local network of gossip and hearsay. As it turned out, the girl Linnie Barnes lived in the same estate, just two streets down.

“So you really were with the circus as a magician.” Jennifer’s eyes were wide as she took in the RV with its authentically faded and torn old circus posters stuck around the doorway advertising the amazing feats of “Hawkeye”. Loki did not even need to lie--he just smiled. This was a far larger circus than the girl could ever imagine.

“Or when we needed a stand-in for the bearded lady,” Clint said, not quite beyond needling them for that little show that morning.

“What did Thor do in the circus?” Linnie asked, wide-eyed as she watched him carry the stack of chairs indoors.

“Oh Thor . . . He used to lift the elephant,” Clint said, improvising on the spot.

While Thor would have had the strength to lift a Midgardian pachyderm before their exile, Loki was not going to contradict this tale now. Not when Clint Barton had his hands full trying to convince three teenage girls that archery practice with live targets was not on the menu.

Loki slipped indoors at the soonest opportunity--just in time to see Natasha Romanoff clear the dining table of bullet clips and guns. The majority of the electronics were already gone.

“No weapons while children are around?” Loki asked lightly.

“And civilians. We’ll have guests pretty soon,” Natasha said. “We don’t want to frighten them unnecessarily. There’s the laptop if you want a crash-course in using it.”

Loki did not doubt that she was quite able to instruct him. The ease with which she swept up those weapons also told him that she was very good at other things too. 

_Assassin._ There was little doubt about that now in his mind. The woman was also more dangerous than the man in a very definite way. Loki could feel her eyes on him--on both him and Thor--ever watchful. 

So he smiled at Agent Romanoff and said, “I’ve played around with them before. Perhaps Dr. Foster would not mind introducing me to the joy of computers when she arrives.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Earlier that day . . ._

“This was not something I imagined I’d be doing when I signed up for this job.” Clint’s voice was slightly muffled by the adjoining wall.

“Your imagination needs work,” Natasha said, gently picking up a dark hair from the pillow with the tweezers and depositing into a small sterile plastic canister. “How’s it going on your end?”

“Someone washed out their condoms--they might be suspicious,” Clint said, poking his head out of the bathroom and holding up said rubber with a pair of rubber-tipped metal tongs. 

“Bag it anyway. One of Coulson’s guys is coming by in half an hour to collect these samples.”

“He’s probably swabbed that old house with every cotton bud he could get his hands on,” Clint said. “It’s a wonder they had any more room for this.”

“Very likely, but the labs usually prefer more samples.” A piece of tape, ran along the base of the bedframe yielded a few more strands.

“I don’t suppose the Director’s going to tell them what these samples are or where they’re from?”

“Probably only on a need to know basis. He’ll want to control the flow of information.”

“Assuming that this yields anything useful.” Clint found a pair of toothbrushes and replaced them with a set of unopened ones. “We even bagged the chopsticks from last night.”

“Not our job to find out. But I’m sure our lab staff will.” She broke off to check the time. “Twelve noon. They’ll be back soon so we’re done here. If they ask about the toothbrushes--”

“Toothbrushes should be replaced every three months, got it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_About a week later . . ._

S.H.I.E.L.D. prided itself on hiring the best and the brightest in addition to the most ruthless and morally flexible personnel. Spies were in the business of trading information, but the information had to come from _somewhere_. Nick Fury had a small army of scientists and analysts to confirm or refute every single factoid that passed their way.

 _This_ particular boffin looked uncomfortable to be in the Director’s presence as she gripped the thin file in front of her like a plastic shield. Still in her lab coat and blinking owlishly at Nick Fury from behind her glasses, she looked like an errant student in front of the principal.

They were getting younger too. But they were usually the best.

“Director Fury, is this a test?” Diana Lee asked, obviously trying not to fidget.

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me what your results say first?” 

Lee cleared her throat, but did not refer to her file. “Preliminary karyotypes show that both subjects have non-human sex chromosomes. Subject Two has one additional pair of chromosomes, possibly related to a different mode of sexual differentiation, but that has yet to be determined.”

Encouraged by Fury’s _carry on_ gesture, Lee continued with more confidence. “We even looked at their mitochondrial DNA. The mtDNA showed no known conserved regions. As in the samples contained human DNA with no evolutionary conservation whatsoever.”

Fury did not even ask for an explanation of the terms. “Your conclusion?”

Lee straightened in her chair to deliver it--she was much more confident when she was in her element. “Whoever or whatever you got the samples from, they aren’t _human_ human as we define it. But they can be considered human at the molecular level--all the gene clusters are there. Save for phylogeny and possibly gender, of course. The unique chromosome number would imply a kind of mutation, but it’s not like anything ever documented in humans.”

“Anything else?”

“Both subjects have DNA that show conserved regions when compared with each other, so it is possible that they are related. If this DNA even works like human DNA, we’ve computed that they would be something like cousins twice removed.” Lee looked up expectantly--waiting for a reprimand, a chewing-out or the news that she had passed some kind of test.

“I see. Thank you for your input.” Fury looked at the geneticist over the steeple of his fingers without any change in expression. “Have you ever been commended for your work?”

“Uh--no . . .” Caught off guard, Lee clutched her file even more tightly.

“Consider yourself commended. And there might be more work to come if you can keep this to yourself.”

“Meaning . . . ?” Lee looked as though she wanted to say something about the nature of her employment. She had signed a multitude of official secrecy forms when she had been recruited. As a general rule, she was not even allowed to tell her family exactly where and who she worked for.

“Not even to your colleagues, Dr. Lee.”

“Yes, Director Fury.” There was little else she could say with his single eye fixed on her.

“All your reports on those samples are now sealed. If there are any new developments, you report them directly to me.”

“Understood, sir.” It seemed as though she had passed _some_ kind of test after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	19. Interlude: Manners and Mannerisms . . . Do Not Actually Mean A Thing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fárbauti’s laugh was, like the rest of him, large and difficult to ignore. Especially when he guffawed indoors. The sound fairly _reverberated_ around the high ceilinged halls.

“You should have seen him! Stuck as a red-skinned and blue-haired e--”

“Are embarrassing stories of my childhood necessary for dinner?” Loki asked. There was a slightly strained edge to his voice as he poked at his fish.

It was not a formal affair as far as the Frost Giants were concerned. The King was dining with his family and the other Asgardians had not been invited. To be precise, the Asgardians might have been invited to dinner with some canny lordling, with strong wine and hard commerce to follow, but Laufey was not going to pay any attention until the next day, giving everyone a fair chance to make a few backroom deals while the King was preoccupied. All in a day’s work and Thor understood enough to leave them to it after Loki had explained it in much more amusing and colourful language.

And the Frost Giants were no slouches when it came to holding a feast and telling tales. Including the stories of Loki’s first forays into shape-shifting.

“But they are amusing,” Helblindi said, crunching the tail end of a large fish--bones and all--in his powerful jaws. They liked their fish raw on Jötunheim, along with extremely rare fillets of meat. 

“That’s right,” Býleistr chimed in. “We would never hear the end of it if it had been one of us. And we have to entertain our guest.”

Their guest was just Thor, who was torn between laughing with Loki’s brothers and concentrating on drinking his ale--one of which came more naturally to him than the other. But Frost Giants liked to quaff as much as Asgardians did and the ale was making him a lot more comfortable than he would usually be in a cavern full of Frost Giants. Even if they were his kin by marriage. And they might share a few ancestors in addition to a love of violent sport and hunting. At least Thor knew his steak was rare--the rest of his extended family were eating their portions raw.

Contrary to expectations, Thor realised that he was rather enjoying himself. And Loki was not.

Whatever discussion he had had with Laufey had not made his temper any sweeter. Which was a damned shame because Thor thought that Loki would feel better on home ground. He had been counting on the prince to steer them through most of the diplomatic manoeuvrings.

By the end of dinner, Loki was jumpy and out of sorts. Not even Fárbauti’s presence could calm him. It ended when Loki stalked off in high dudgeon.

“He’s as touchy as a scalded cat,” Thor sighed. “Odd . . . I thought he would be happy to be home.”

“Wanting to come back home does not equate being happy at home,” Laufey said with an expression that Thor could not read at all. “Now, Prince Thor, I will have my sons guide you back to your chambers and please do watch out for assassins in the dark.”

That was as good as a _good night_ and _sleep well_ from a Frost Giant.

“He’s not joking, is he?” Thor asked Helblindi and Býleistr when the King had left.

“No, your joining is still controversial--perhaps that is why Loki does not feel that he has achieved all that he set out to do,” Helblindi remarked. The second of Laufey’s son’s tended to be more insightful wherever his brother was concerned.

“That is probably one of his problems,” Býleistr said morosely. “Perhaps you should let him alone for a while before going near him. And don’t worry about our brother, he can take of himself here--mostly by becoming invisible until he feels like talking to people again.”

“Yes, it usually worked when we were younger.” Helblindi blinked at Thor curiously. “What is a cat, Prince Thor?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki’s mood had grown foul and he knew that everyone could tell.

It was not Laufey’s doing. Or Fárbauti’s fault, really. It was not even Býleistr and Helblindi’s fault.

And if he was _really_ honest with himself, it was not Thor’s fault either.

It had happened after his conversation with his king and dam, when he had thought to go to his eyrie and look over his paraphernalia for spellcraft. There might be other things he could bring back this time as he did not have a caravan of wedding gifts to contend with.

It was not his day to be alone, however. Loki ran into Vlodir, a middling functionary of some sort, in the upper galleries of the main keep. 

“Loki Shape-shifter, you’ve come home,” said Vlodir, a sadly necessary nuisance in the expanding court of the king. Not particularly tall or well-known as a fighter, he nonetheless had a place in the workings of Laufey’s great undertaking. Unfortunately. “And you’ve brought the Aesir prince with you.”

“And what of it?” Loki had to remember not to rise to any jibes. It was beneath him now that he had taken a mate and had a title in a foreign court. Vlodir would never go beyond verbal jousts and Loki could usually get the better of him.

“Is he doing you right? He looks a pretty mouthful, but that might be just for show--”

“Get to the point,” Loki snapped, already impatient with this game and itching for an excuse. Just _any_ excuse--

“You’re not with child. No Aesir princeling’s get swelling your belly,” Vlodir said casually, the tips of his teeth just visible under his blue lips. “Even a Thunder God can’t get you knocked up. Or perhaps he does prefer your arse to your c--”

Loki rounded on him, too incensed to pretend indifference. “Get lost--before I curse you with a pox on your genitals,” he spat, showing his teeth. “Rot you and rot your stinking cunt!”

Vlodir snarled, showing his teeth, but he backed off because Loki had been known to carry out his threats if pushed.

Taking a deep breath, Loki clenched his fists and counted to ten so that he did not unleash an ice bolt at Vlodir’s back. Unwise--most unwise to leave your back exposed to a sorcerer. And he was angry, mostly at himself because nothing had _changed_. They could still get to him that easily.

Fortunately, readjusting his features to bored neutrality was not a problem for someone who had been shape-shifting for the better half of a millennium. But it was not so simple to put Vlodir and Vlodir’s words out of sight and out of mind. Even after retreating to his eyrie and finding the seals on it untouched did not put him in a better frame of mind.

He was uneasy throughout dinner and it showed. Loki could not sit through the tales of his childhood without feeling . . . exposed. Having two significantly taller and apparently normal younger brothers had not stopped people from talking. Sharp ears were both a blessing and a curse in the court of the King.

Loki did not return to his spouse until later that night, having taken on a shadowy aspect to wander the halls of his former home as an invisible wraith. It made him feel better and less vulnerable as he lurked around listening to the whispers in the long corridors and the less grand quarters of the servants and underlings.

Eavesdropping used to be a hobby--now it was a necessity if he was to keep his head above the treacherous waters he was treading in. He learned about the newest additions to Laufey’s court and a number of salacious titbits that he filed away for later perusal.

Satisfied with his prowling, he scaled the ice walls of his sire’s fortress and entered the bedroom by the window. Which had startled Thor and almost resulted in the destruction of the wall around the window by Mjölnir.

When they had sex that night, it was at Thor’s instigation. Not that Loki minded. It had been a . . . trying day. He howled his release at the domed ceiling of their bedchamber and temporarily forgot about the eyes watching him.

In the aftermath, Thor gazed at the scratches on his arms and shoulders ruefully. They were already healing over as Loki opened his eyes to look at what he had wrought. “Is this how your people mark each other then?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Loki felt the slightest twinge of guilt as he watched the welts fade into nothingness. He had not meant to scratch so hard even though his people were not exactly gentle when lust took them. Doing permanent harm or gnawing off body parts was considered _rude_ if it was not ritual combat but marking your lovers was acceptable. It was . . . possessive and unnecessary in his case, he knew, but he had just wanted to mark out what was _his_.

“Perhaps. I have to stake my claim after all,” he said flippantly.

His words proved to be terribly prophetic, for the very next day, Thor was propositioned by a Jötunn from a relatively large clan--the first offspring of the clan chief to boot.

It did not look like a proposition from an Asgardian point of view. The chief’s son was taking the subtle route as well, asking Thor to first spar with him, then wrestle with him on the pretext of testing his mettle.

Testing someone’s mettle was actually a prelude to courtship between those who chose the warrior’s route. Loki did not think much about Thor having a few bouts with some of the Frost Giants as he watched from the side lines, but he did not have to take some jumped-up chieftain’s son suggesting that they could continue the match later, in private. The expression on Thor’s face was priceless though--not that Loki was in the mood to appreciate it at that time.

But oh, he knew how to react in this sort of situation even if Thor did not. Loki made a gesture--

Thor's unwelcome new friend was sent tumbling head over heels as the ice underneath him explode into fragments.

He showed his teeth then. Yes, let them be surprised. Even Thor was looking rather shocked by the display.

Growling at the Jötunn on the ground, he spat something spectacularly vulgar at him and glared until the unfortunate fool scuttled away.

"What was that about?" Thor asked as the ensuing silence pressed on them both. "Did I miss another traditional exchange between your people?"

"It meant _hands off, you stupid animal--this is mine_ ," Loki informed him casually. "That was a warning before I ripped his eyes out."

“I thought your people respected joinings more than that?”

“They do. To the point whereby they would challenge _me_ if they desired you or your seed--I’m only heading off any potential idiots who even dare to think about it.” The ones who dared were fools--muddling up the succession of another Realm was going to have repercussions. Unless that was their intention . . .

Thor appeared to give this some thought. “What would you do if you were challenged then?”

“Cast a spell at him and explode his head as a warning to others,” Loki said, not entirely in jest. He was entitled to defend what was his, after all, tradition or no tradition.

"I don't see you exploding things in Asgard," Thor remarked, “for all that you called some people terrible names behind their backs.”

"Explode things in front of your mother? How stupid do you imagine me to be?" Loki demanded. "She'll make us clean it up. And I do not treat the petty insults of your people as challenges, even if they are offensive on purpose sometimes and ignorantly offensive by accident at all other times."

“It would be interesting to see you respond to the sort of questions I’ve been getting about you,” Thor said. “For if I am not allowed to beat their heads in, then you cannot explode their heads off either.”

Loki looked around the rapidly emptying courtyard critically. “If we’re here any longer, you might get to see me do that if someone is suicidal enough to challenge me.”

“You’ll need to tell me how to fend off unwanted advances when you’re not around to threaten your people then,” Thor stated grimly. “My self-restraint might not be a strong as yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But no challenge came. If someone wanted Loki or Thor out of the way or damaged or _compromised_ in some way, they were going about in a more circuitous manner.

Back in Asgard after something resembling trade had been put into place between the two Realms, Loki decided that he had to start establishing his presence in the Palace. Being Thor’s reclusive and mysterious foreign spouse was not going to protect or help him in the long run.

It was a shame that the courtiers and lackeys in Asgard were very much like the courtiers and lackeys in his king and dam’s court, appearances notwithstanding. Their jabs and parries were a lot clumsier than what Loki was accustomed to because he was still an unknown quantity and they often resorted to condescension.

He almost lost his composure when he first realised that some conversations were part of the Asgardian courtship ritual in which two parties tested the waters to see if future sexual congress was on the cards. It was called _flirting_.

Thor’s face when Loki had told him about this discovery had been an interesting mix of bemusement and acute disgruntlement. Loki told himself that it did not matter if Thor was feeling possessive of his rights. But it had felt _good_ for a few seconds.

“It’s just a fad--they’ll grow tired of it eventually,” Loki had said dismissively. He certainly hoped that they would. Such conversations were definitely more uncomfortable now that he understood just what they were implying.

Loki was also bored by it all because the context of it all was not very different from home. _Slice, parry and jab--let’s see how this prince bleeds._

So he only gave the Asgardian nobles the barest silver of attention as they tried to draw him into their circles and test his boundaries. It amused him slightly to see the women--their females--trying to use their wiles on him. Unfortunately for them, what worked on the men of their kind did nothing for Loki. A few of the men were giving it a go as well, with approximately the same results. 

These people knew nothing of his race’s ways and he could have told them that they were wasting their time--as a prince and warrior, he would be looking for a better fighter or a more able provider. And the most virile, because his instincts would drive him to mate with the goal of reproduction in mind. Their wordplay was not nearly clever enough to make up for their less attractive features.

It was a moot point anyhow because there was only one lineage he was trying to co-mingle with his own and it just happened to be highest in the land. His current status was another thing--it superseded or trumped the other requirements and he was not going to compromise his own position for extra sexual experimentation. 

It was fortunate that Thor was the premier warrior and crown prince--there would have been problems with a less impressive specimen of royalty. _Like himself_ , the inner voice needled. _Býleistr_ might have been the one sent to mingle their bloodlines after all.

He tried to tell himself that it was not a race. He did not have to beat Helblindi to parenthood. But he might have to get himself pregnant before some shadowy plotters tried to kill him again. Or compromise Thor by placing a likely young woman in his way so that they would have an illegitimate child in place to throw the succession into chaos.

The more he thought about it, the more paranoid he became. Loki caught himself rechecking his food for things that were not supposed to be there. Poison was one thing, but what if there were drugs or curses that could render him infertile? It was the sort of thing that witches threatened people with, but that sort of thing was more common on Jötunheim than Asgard.

But such thoughts were counter-productive and liable to make him jump at shadows. It had been a near thing though--people had narrowly escaped receiving nasty shocks in the hallways because the Valkyries had prudently worked out a system to warn him that people were approaching.

The rest of the time, while surrounded by nattering courtiers and unable to flounce out gracefully, Loki entertained his own mind with thinking up lines he would never use to turn these nobles down. 

_“Sorry my dear, no offense, you probably have a lovely set of genitalia and a fine womb, but I’m not going to plant a child in it.”_

_“It’s not you, it’s me. As in I don’t like you and you don’t do anything for me.”_

_“No, I don’t think so. I would rather mate with a rabid kraken . . . Or bilgesnipe._

They left him alone when they tired of getting a reaction out of him. By the end of most mornings, Loki had a corner of the public atrium to himself, having outlasted the curiosity of the courtiers for the moment.

“It’s only a game for you, princeling.” Astrid, the Valkyrie currently on guard duty melted out of the shadows where she had stood, unnoticed for the past hour or so. Her partner Brigit was probably just somewhere around the corner, lurking in concealment in case of an attack. Loki had never been able to work out how they moved so silently wearing all that armour and chain-mail.

“Yes, very observant of you,” Loki said, always, _always_ relying on sarcasm to respond even though he rather liked the Valkyrie. Unlike the nobles, she did not waste her breath and said what she really thought. And she was sharp as an arrow, which was an admirable trait in someone who was a guardian and protector, but uncomfortable for anyone in her charge. She could probably kill him without using any of her many hidden weapons, so there was no point in getting up from the marble bench to appear intimidating. Astrid might roll her eyes at him for that sort of display and he would be left glaring helplessly. “They did come to me.”

She snorted--another amusingly blunt gesture. “Mostly for their own gain.”

“And I made sure they got nothing out of it.” Loki held his sneer in check as his gaze swept over the groups of Asgardian nobles and bureaucrats. “I can recognise an inappropriate proposition when I’m being hit over the head with one now.”

“Most of them aren’t serious, but a few of them might be stupid enough to want to try it so that they can boast of it to their companions,” the Valkyrie observed.

Loki allowed himself a small chuckle. “My dear Astrid, you safeguard my reputation by just being your usual dour self in the background. Everyone knows that you cannot be subverted and you won’t let any improprieties happen under your watch.”

“Not my job to police your bed. But you’d have poorer taste than I’d imagined if you take up with one of that lot.”

“On that, we both agree,” Loki said. “Shall we go now? I believe it is finally time to show up at one of those hunts like everyone else does and make an exhibition of myself.”

“You’re already an exhibition whether you want to be one or not, Laufeyson.”

Loki pretended that he had not heard a Valkyrie feel sorry for him in her own grim-faced way as he swept off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor had been surprised when Loki finally entered into the public arena that a royal consort was required to grace with their presence. He was no less aloof though, choosing to look down his nose at anyone who approached him.

But Thor could hardly blame him when he saw the sort of people Loki was surrounded by. They were sycophants of the worst sort and Thor usually avoided them. But it was not in Loki’s nature to allow a veiled barb to slip by unchallenged.

“Because it _is_ all an act. I hate being on show like a performing monkey,” Loki said as he looked at the finely-crafted helm in his hand. He was dressing for the day’s hunt with extra care from what Thor could see from where he leaned against the doorway of the dressing room. Loki was going for something brighter than his usual dark leathers today. 

“You still agreed to attend.” Thor never thought too hard about his clothing, but his recent hand-fasting had signalled a new phase of his life and his wardrobe had been adjusted accordingly by his mother’s subtle hand.

“Yes, I did. But I do know how to give a good show after all,” the prince said, turning the helmet so that the gold finish gleamed in the light.

“That you do, sire.” Loki’s manservant draped a rich moss-green cloak about his shoulders and dusted off a minute speck of dust from the material.

“Kerr, you don’t need to convey sarcasm by agreeing with me all the time.” Loki took a moment to adjust the hang of his cloak in the mirror.

“Of course not, sire.” This, as far as Thor could tell, was a normal conversation conducted between Loki and his personal servants.

“Prepare the bath for me so that I can get in the moment I come back,” Loki said before donning his helm. “Does this say _I’m an overdressed idiot_ or what?”

“Or what, sire. Highness,” Kerr said, bowing to Thor before exiting the room. Probably to avoid any more questions.

“Smart man.”

“Yes--he might not have lasted so long if he was not a smart man.” Loki turned to Thor. “Do I look like one of those ninnies at court?”

“I’m not Kerr and I’m not going to answer that,” Thor said prudently. “Now what manner of weapons are you bringing?”

“I thought I might go without any weapons and use magic to scandalise the masses.” Loki had made it abundantly clear to him that aiming a spell took as much skill as aiming a bow and arrow in one of their earlier arguments. 

His earlier prudence looked wiser in retrospect as Loki went about asking the same question of the nobles who came to greet them, flashing his teeth in a bright smile that never quite reached his eyes.

They did not know that Loki was not actually smiling whenever he bared his teeth and he had never chosen to enlighten them about it. The not-smile grew incredibly brittle as all and sundry pressed in to gawk. Outside the formalities of Odin’s court, the sons and daughters of Asgard could finally interact with the latest addition in an unofficial capacity.

The latest addition was not actually fond of crowds and the weeks of watching for assassins in the shadows had not improved his mood. Thor remembered how Loki had looked--all blue and spindle-limbed as he had scuttled through the casement window of the ice fortress like a giant spider--and his instinctive reaction back then. It was not reassuring.

The fact that there was an increasingly annoyed sorcerer and Frost Giant in their midst was lost on them, Thor realised belatedly. Loki had blended in entirely too well. He was torn between hurrying Loki along or shunting aside everyone who wanted to make small talk before the hunt got underway. Regretfully, the Valkyries were here to watch his back, not clear their way.

Thor had never had to make the effort to keep someone else from exploding heads off before. It was not an easy thing to do while trying to keep from being drawn into a pointless conversation. He was glad when the actual hunting began, for it meant that Loki and everyone else was otherwise engaged as they rode into the royal hunting rounds.

Two hours later, he was looking at a crater roughly a mile wide and Astrid and Brigit had to whisk Loki away before anything else happened.

Standing in the middle of a crowd that was milling about doing nothing helpful or even bothering to calm the horses, Thor felt the beginning of a god-sized headache encroaching as he started searching for answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_What is a cat?_

_A cat is a four-legged, contrary thing that looks very nice while curled up by your fireplace, but will still attempt to bite you while you are stroking it because it will only accept affection on its own terms. Even if it did go up to you looking for affection._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Prince Loki--”

Damned Valkyries and their noiseless movements! Loki spun around as though stung.

“You should leave me alone! I’m liable to zap you right now.” Back in his own chambers, away from the crowds and the noise, Loki should have felt _less_ like he had a target painted on his back.

“Prince Loki--”

“On second thought, I don’t think they’re going to let me _breathe_ unattended from here on out--”

“ _Will you stop pacing and calm yourself._ ” Astrid was not shouting. She never needed to shout. Not even under the most pressing of circumstances--like half an hour ago. But the commanding tone she used cut through his nervous ranting and his legs obeyed her, halting his rapid progress across the floor of his receiving rooms.

“ _Sit down._ ”

His traitorous knees folded and he did not quite mind the omission of his title as he found himself seated in a chair and passed a cup of what smelt like herbal tea sweetened with honey. Kerr had stuck his head in once after they had arrived back in the Palace and took himself off to the kitchens swiftly. Loki did not have the heart to object to being babied--his energy levels were low after his earlier expenditure of magic.

He would need fortification for later, he had no doubt. But they were probably not going to let him have wine. Not when he was as jumpy as a scalded cat and much more dangerous. 

By the time the summons came, he had drifted into a state of numb fatalism.

“Best get it done with, sire,” Brigit said. She had brought the message from Odin and was tactfully not saying anything more.

To Loki’s surprised, he was guided to the Queen’s private receiving rooms. Only Odin and Frigga were present along with the Valkyries in the warmly-lit room. Loki felt some of the tension slough off--they were not going to make a spectacle out of this. Then Thor arrived shortly after and he looked a lot more rumpled than his usual golden self.

“Father, there was--”

“I know you found something, Thor, but we will hear you later.” Odin looked like he had a permanent toothache. His Queen looked calmer, but she was probably fretting after the events of that afternoon. She had probably sensed a spell of that magnitude going off. “Start from the beginning.”

The hunt had started out uneventfully enough. It was nothing like hunting frost wargs through the valleys and ice canyons on Jötunheim. And it had almost been boring until they spotted the first stag. Then it had been a competition to shoot it or spear it first.

Loki had liked that part. But the commentary from everyone else about his methods of hunting had not been appreciated. He had only used his magic to prank a few of the loudest naysayers. Just the loosening of a few saddle girths and spooking the horses with illusionary insects so that they reared up just as certain nobles were about to cast their spears or let fly their arrows. Small magics.

It had amused him for a while. Until a bolt he had unleashed at the stag they had been stalking had missed its intended target.

Loki had _felt_ rather than seen the spell that had been triggered by his magic. 

It had been keyed to _his_ magic and his magic alone. The fact registered itself in his mind a split second before everything went to hell in a handbasket.

There had been an odd sort of ripple in the air and the forest in front of them had _changed_ subtly. It was as though an avalanche had been set off by a single pebble. But instead of snow and ice, a wave of destructive energy had snapped free and crashed down on the hunting party.

He erected a shield instinctively and expanded it to cover Thor because he was not going to be caught napping again. The rest of the Asgardians, Loki did not really care about. But the horses were innocent after all and a contingent of the Valkryie guard was just behind him . . .

“He held the shield until the ground started to break. Then we dragged him clear of primary radius of the spell,” Astrid reported. “The magicks involved dissipated quickly after that.”

“Prince Thor insisted that we should bring Prince Loki back to the Palace. Astrid and I concurred,” Brigit stated, her storm cloud grey gaze cold and not at all like the one she had expressed so very briefly in the woods as the trap had triggered over their heads. The Valkyries had initiated their emergency protocol and triggered the spell that would transport them back to the safety of the Palace. Loki had not even been _aware_ of that particular spell that his guards carried for such situations.

It had been a lot to take in after the spell had been triggered and Loki had had his hands full trying to maintain his seat on Aud and hold his shield. Brigit had prudently grabbed his reins while trying to find a way out of what had looked like a firestorm of explosive energies. Anyone who was even remotely sensitive to magic had felt it at that time. 

Thor had ordered them back once they were clear of something like looked like a blackened crater because Loki had begun to lose his grip on his shape-shifting abilities. Loki had not had the strength to protest at that time and the Valkyries were not going to use their right to countermand an order from the prince. There had been panicked people and horses milling around him. According to Queen Frigga’s tally, some had not escaped entirely unscathed, but they were Asgardians and they would heal.

“There was no trace of the trap or enchantment that was laid for us,” Thor growled, obviously frustrated after a search of the surrounding forest had yielded a grand total of nothing at all.

“Permission to go back and search the site. With the Valkyries, of course.” Loki was grateful that they were not going to blow this up in front of the entire court, but he was damned if he was going to let this attack go with investigation. His own investigation--there were some spells he had not tried before . . .

“Loki, you’ve just used a very exhaustive spell,” Frigga said reasonably. She moved to stand by Odin, her face carefully neutral. He had no doubt that she had been worried for her only son and another attack in her own Realm, but a Queen of Asgard could show no fear “I think some time away from Asgard would be advisable.”

The All-Father looked up at his wife and took a deep breath. “There is a diplomatic mission to the Court of the Elven King about to depart soon. We believe that it might be best if you accompanied them.”

Thor started forward, his expression thunderous. “But Father--”

“ _Both_ of you.”

Loki had to try--before they were packed off with a diplomatic mission for their own safety. “I’m the most qualified to investigate another sorcerer’s work--”

“Prince Loki, I believe I am the most qualified to look into hostile spells triggered in my Realm, upon my subjects and in front of my son.” Odin did not need to stand up and thump his sceptre to make his point, but his meaning was clear. “We are grateful to you, Loki, do not misunderstand, but if anything were to happen to _you_ , we would also be guilty of gross negligence on our part.”

Being unable to guarantee his safety, of course, was tantamount to saying that Odin All-Father could not protect even his son and his son’s consort in his own Realm. Loki wished that he was less angry so that he could appreciate the sentiment. Thor did not look best pleased about it either, but the King and Queen looked like they had made up their minds. It would take more than just a token protest to go against their edict.

“Sire,” Loki said, inclining his head. He had expected to be watched every second of the day after the latest attempt, so leaving Asgard for another court was not an entirely unwelcome development. Thor looked mutinous, but he too eventually nodded in submission to his father’s will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay--distracted by vacation, work, Hobbits, work, Elementary and work again.


	20. Expected and Unexpected Guests (Day One Hundred and Twenty-Seven)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“. . . and we’re waiting on Dr. Foster’s response. I believe she can probably rebuild her equipment given a few months or so. The only factor that would make her inclined to consider our offer would be access to the E.T.s. and the existing data she collected on the trans-dimensional bridge previously.”_

Coulson’s report wound to a close and his image went silent on the holographic screen. He waited for the Director to speak, knowing that the situation on the ground was just one part of the big picture at the moment.

“You mean you expect she will stick around so long as our paperwork-generating visitors do.” Nick Fury turned and eyed the growing number of reports on his desk--the virtual one and the actual physical desk--with some distaste. He managed to make _paperwork_ sound like the curse it was.

The holographic image of Coulson grimaced sympathetically. He was not that fond of exercising S.H.I.E.L.D.’s authority to confiscate private property, but Dr. Foster’s information had probably been the first documented pieces of evidence that their specialists had not picked up on. The list of items taken was probably amidst one of those reports. _“It’s the most direct way of getting the information she wants. Especially if future incursions are going to occur somewhere in their vicinity.”_

His superior sighed. “I would prefer that the extra-terrestrials slash extra-dimensional visitors were going home, but it appears that we are stuck with them.”

_“Make the best of a bad situation, sir?”_

“Try telling the Council that.” Nick Fury was not one to let his inner frustration show, but Coulson could see the very slight facial tic that signalled near terminal levels of doneness with red tape and the people who made them. “We have to come up with entirely new protocols. And most of them are dependent on whether the aliens are willing to play along.”

It was an odd day when Director Fury found himself the advocate for pacifism and the voice of reason in the Council. It was a job and a half keeping the delicate balance between the hawks and the doves on the Council. He had expected better of certain people, but the knee-jerk reactions to what was probably first contact were not promising. Their communication channels would need to be monitored in case any sensitive information was leaked--intentionally or not.

_“Assuming they do play along, sir, just how much leeway are we permitted to give them?”_

“We can be flexible. To a point.” Fury prodded one of the panels on the holographic screen to initiate an upload. “There are new protocols for that as well. The file’s on the way. Get familiar with it. Romanoff and Barton have updated instructions as well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been . . . a less than restful night following the events that had led to the confiscation of her equipment, her data _and_ the aliens from another dimension. Jane had been practically forced to rest by Erik and Darcy after they had been dropped off in Puerto Antiguo by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

In the end, it was being on her feet for almost thirty-six hours and the caffeine finally leaving her system that dropped Jane into a dreamless slumber. She only woke again at nine the next morning, two hours later than usual and feeling like one of those Frost Giants had trod on her head. Repeatedly. A shower and half a bottle of water later, she was feeling more like herself again.

Erik and Darcy looked as worn-out as she felt when she met up with them. They got breakfast at a McDonald's near the strip mall, occasionally staring around the restaurant nervously. Their uneasiness was understandable. Knowing what they did, S.H.I.E.L.D. would not let them slip off their radar _that_ easily.

Their discussion about what to do from here on out was brief and depressing.

"It's not like we can talk about this to anyone else," Darcy pointed out. "And they've still got my iPod."

“And the laptop with the data on it,” Jane groused over her coffee. The data she had spent _months_ collecting. 

“Jane, you can still walk away from all this,” Erik said, but she could see that his heart was not in it. Like her, he would keep chasing the truth now that they knew of the existence of other dimensions. It was also entirely possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be keeping tabs on them even if they did give up on this path.

“I don’t think I can.” She took a deep breath. “And they have the most important pieces to the puzzle now.”

Up to that point in time, Jane had always thought of herself as a law-abiding citizen. Now she felt like anything but as she took out the card that Agent Coulson had given her with the appropriate number to call.

They had to get a new phone to use the number--their own phones had been confiscated yesterday.

 _"Dr. Foster."_ They had expected her to get back to them. Evidently.

"Yes . . . w-we want to meet up and talk." She hoped that she did not sound as nervous as she felt.

_“Looking forward to it, Dr. Foster. And bring food.”_

"Bring food?"

 _"Pretend you're visiting friends. Like a social call,"_ Coulson clarified.

“Oh.” They were apparently getting into the cloak-and-dagger business as well. Jane would have rolled her eyes at all this secrecy if she did not know the true import of what lay just a few miles away in the next town.

_“I’ll send you the address by text.”_

Jane stopped at a convenience store along the way and picked up two cartons of bottled beer after asking Erik for a recommendation. Darcy got chips and dip because she said it was not a real fake party without chips.

They finally made it to the small mundane-looking estate in the rental car, marvelling all the while that those agents would choose this sort of place to hide what was probably the biggest secret on earth at the moment. 

Hidden in plain sight. Jane suppressed a moment of irrational mirth as she thought of the long months spent trying to isolate the cause of those energy spikes when the actual reason for them had been living in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Nuovo Puerto.

Now they were shacked up in suburbia, in a house with an RV and another rental car parked outside.

Phil Coulson came out to meet them. He was still in his suit but had taken his tie off so that he looked slightly more casual and less like a government agent. Dogging his footsteps were the agents known as Barton and Romanoff, looking even more like average citizens in jeans and t-shirts.

“Hey. Glad you could make it.”

“Hey, we’re here. Pretending to be all neighbourly and everything. With chips,” Darcy said, consciously or unconsciously mimicking his tone. She was being upbeat about the whole messed-up situation despite not having her iPod and associated gear any more.

“Appreciated,” said Agent Barton. He was the friendly-looking one. His red-haired colleague whisked the beer and chips away--probably to be scanned for all manner of things. Agent Romanoff did not pretend to be friendly, which came as something of a relief.

“I expect you’d like to speak your new friends,” Coulson said, ushering them indoors.

The living room seemed too small with all of them crowding in. The visitors--the aliens--were coming down from the second floor. At that moment, Jane realised why everything seemed surreal. They still looked astonishingly _human_ even in this calculatedly normal setting. 

“Dr. Foster, how nice of you to come back to see us,” Loki said, all razor-edged charm topped with a pointed smile. He still did not look like the Frost Giants from the previous day. There was a glitter of mischief--or possibly malice--in his eyes as his gaze swept over them and landed on the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in a way that also said _how nice of our minders to let you come see us_.

Wild horses would not have kept her away and all that, but they did not have to know that.

“Lady Jane, I hope you are well.” Thor still managed to fill up all available space with his presence. It had little to do with how tall he was in comparison to everyone else.

“Well enough.” For now. She tried to smile convincingly. It was the polite thing to do when a blond mountain of a man was beaming down at her.

“Nice set-up you’ve got here.” Darcy was not one to let the seriousness of the situation drag her down. Jane was obscurely glad of it at the moment.

“All the mod-cons,” Coulson agreed readily. “Dr. Foster, we’ll leave you to it. I expect you need some more information to make your decision and we’ll talk about it afterwards.”

Jane nodded, tight-lipped. She had a nebulous idea about what she wanted at the moment, but it was slowly taking shape in her mind.

“Your decision?” Thor asked as Coulson and the other two agents moved to back room. 

“They want her to work for them,” Loki said shrewdly. “That implies that Dr. Foster’s work is as advanced or more advanced than whatever they have.”

“Jane, please,” she said, slightly flustered. “I’m not even Dr. Foster to my research assistants.”

“That’d be me,” Darcy said with a wave.

“Lady Darcy, I hope the loss of your apparatus has not distressed you too much,” Thor said sincerely.

“No biggie. Just a couple of thousand songs I’ll have to upload again,” Darcy said with an airy wave. “Jane’s the one who worked years on all those scanners and . . . stuff.”

“You’re looking to get it back, I assume?” Loki pulled up two chairs to a table on which a laptop was perched. “What is it that you do with your machines?”

“They’re . . . measuring devices,” she tried to explain.

“Sit, we can talk about your work and you can show me how computers work.” Something in his tone made her pause.

They did not have the funds or the electricity for electronics from what she had seen of the dilapidated house they had been squatting in previously. Still, they would not have remained ignorant of electrical appliances after a few months on Earth . . .

So she sat down with him and talked him through the basics of electricity. Half-way through, Agent Barton could be seen practicing on the target set up in the yard. Thor, who had been discussing Norse legends with Erik, got up to go outside.

Erik and Darcy looked at her and Jane gave what she hoped was a subtle signal that they should follow. Loki appeared to want to speak with her in private. 

But how would they manage it here? Judging by Loki’s extremely neutral comments, the house was probably bugged . . .

She manipulated the mouse and a rectangular window popped up.

"This is a text input application. And this is a rudimentary tool for keeping records," she said, but her fingers kept typing. "You key in numbers and stuff and it'll do sums like a calculator. My equipment has been programmed with algorithms--that’s a kind of equation--to calculate and detect fluctuations in Earth’s gravity field."

 _I'm not going to ever get my data or equipment back unless I work for them. What did they offer you?_ she typed.

"Do you want to try it?" Jane turned the laptop towards him and hoped that he would catch on.

“And so that was how you . . . detected the activity of the Bifrost and the other portals?” He started typing with a speed that put paid to the truthfulness of his claim to know nothing of computers. _The dubious joy of being watched every step of the way. Protection, apparently. Why don't you want to work for these people?_

Holding two conversations concurrently was going to be difficult. “The Bifrost . . . Erik said that that was a mythological bridge.”

_Afraid that my work isn't in safe hands. They could use it for anything. I don't know what they'll do with it._

“Yes. Though it is far from mythological. It is a dimensional gateway that can be opened at will.” Loki continued to type as he spoke. “Apparently your people have nothing like it here on Midgard.”

_They won't find out much about crossing the dimensions from us. They don’t seem to believe in magic._

Jane might have counted herself amongst the non-believers once. After all she had seen to date, she was willing to admit that science could only explain ninety per cent of it. _Okay, eighty-five per cent._ As a women of science, she had to allow for all the possibilities.

“Midgard?” She took over the keyboard once again.

_You are still proof of alien life and other universes. Some people will want that knowledge anyway._

“Earth. Your world.” Loki actually paused and Googled an image of the planet from space. “I do like looking at that.”

_They will not let us out of their sight. I suppose we are safe. For now._

“It’s definitely something,” she said, noting the wistfulness in his tone. “I was inspired to do astrophysics when I first visited a planetarium.”

“What is a planetarium?” Loki asked, looking genuinely curious as he continued their typed conversation. _You might get to do more working for them._

“It’s like a movie theatre you can see shows about astronomy.” The nostalgia was creeping up on her even as she thought about the irony of the situation. The child she had once been had never dreamed of having clandestine conversations with aliens. 

_Probably. And find a way for you to go home._

There was no question mark in her last sentence. Loki nodded ever so slightly--so they did understand each other after all.

 _I have an idea about what you should ask for._ She leaned in closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Should we tell them that we can see what they’re typing?” Clint asked as he wandered back indoors to get a bottle of water from the fridge in the kitchen. Coulson was seated behind another computer screen that had a neat little programme allowed them to view the laptop’s activities in real time. Natasha was probably keeping an eye out from the second floor. “I mean, it’s a little sad seeing them pretend to be discreet.” 

“No--our new friends need to make new friends. So they don’t feel so alienated. Forgive the pun. It’s probably better for them psychologically.” Coulson made a note of this for his next report. “And they might talk more to their new friends too.”

Clint cocked his head towards his one-time handler. “Are we supposed to be their friends too?”

“That’s entirely up to you,” Clint replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “It looks like Loki Laufeyson might be expecting it though. So you’ll have to be a bit more subtle.”

“I can do subtle. Not the kind of mind games Natasha plays, but--”

“More subtle than usual.” Coulson tried to think of ways to head off future friction and decided that it was probably futile. “I think you should just act as you normally do.”

“Oh. Okay. I don’t like that Loki guy that much. Thor, maybe . . .” Clint shrugged and nodded towards the yard. “He wanted to lend my bow--gave him my spare for practice. He’s not a bad shot.”

Coulson just smiled. Sometimes, he preferred to let nature take its course. 

In the meantime, Dr. Foster and Loki had taken their discussion offline, walking out of camera range to find Thor in the yard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few days had passed without incident. Mostly without incident.

There was something to be said about electricity, running water and having sex on a new bed. Though the bed did not last past the second night, prompting Agent Barton to mutter something about writing to Ikea to complain. The Pendletons' second-hand bed had been sturdier--a fact that Loki pointed out immediately when the Agents looked in on them after hearing the loud thump that signalled the bed frame hitting the floor.

Natasha Romanoff's face had grown curiously wooden after hearing that comment while Clint had looked away, swearing fit to turn the air blue when Loki and Thor made no move to cover themselves. Humans did have peculiar "hang-ups"--a term that the teenagers of the town used to disparage the rules and social mores the adults held to. Loki merely rolled his eyes and told them that they could stay and watch if they wanted to, but a broken bed was not going to stop them from finishing what they had started.

The agents moved back downstairs without a word at that point.

Loki did like to faze their hosts in any way possible. In fact, he took a perverse joy in being as outlandish as possible. It was all Thor could do to keep Loki from parading around without his clothes on. That sort of thing would, as Agent Coulson said, scandalise the neighbours and ensure that the teenaged female population of the estate and most of the town would be cycling past at any given opportunity.

Their first day had started out in a mundane fashion. Laundering the sheets, having breakfast with Agent Coulson and then hearing that the lady Jane Foster would be meeting with them later that day. They even stopped off at the supermarket to get more supplies and food.

If Coulson was fazed by the five large boxes of Durex and the package of sanitary napkins that Loki added to their shopping, he did not show it as he paid for all the items with a credit card that did not have his name on it.

They did not have to wait long after that for Dr. Foster’s arrival. The humans seemed to be no worse for wear after the previous day’s events. That meant that Coulson had kept his word about their fate, Thor supposed. Loki might call him naïve for it, but it boded well for their own fates.

The lady Jane and her companions were trying to get their property back. It seemed to entail her working for the entity known as S.H.I.E.L.D. in the capacity of a scientist. Or so Thor inferred from his conversation with Erik Selving and Darcy Lewis.

The other astrophysicist was a good source of information about the Norse legends of Midgard. Selvig had read about them as a boy. Curiously, the legends were older than Thor. The matter of this discrepancy took a backseat as he noticed Clint Barton doing a spot of target practice outside. Loki did not seem to object to being left alone with the lady Jane--in fact he was practically signalling that he needed to speak in private.

Loki was up to something. His schemes would eventually come to light, Thor knew. He could only hope that the humans were not going to get entangled in it. 

In the meantime, he asked Clint for a loan of his bow. It had been months since he had a proper weapon in his hand. Erik and the lady Darcy seemed content to watch along with Clint, who was observing with a critical eye.

The agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. as they called themselves seemed competent if overly fond of secrecy. Natasha Romanoff was a lovely woman, but even Fandral would not have missed the fact that she was a sheathed blade that could be deployed at any moment. Thor liked Clint Barton as a person as he seemed more straightforward. It was a shame he could not trust him at this point.

Eventually, Clint went indoors and Loki and Jane emerged from the living room. Thor knew instantaneously that they had agreed on something. This was borne out as they moved out into the yard for a makeshift conference.

“Loki,” Thor rumbled in warning. “You’ve got them involved, haven’t you?”

“Dr. Foster agreed to get involved. She is intelligent and slightly more trustworthy than the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. at the moment,” Loki pointed out. 

They would need allies. And why not an ally who was an expert or the next best thing on dimensional travel? Just in case their exile continued to extend itself.

That was true, for now.

“Only _slightly_ more trustworthy?” Jane asked. 

“We have no reason to trust humans. Any humans. Present company exempted,” Loki said, not the least bit apologetic.

“What is it you propose?” Thor sighed. Erik looked like he shared his views while Darcy looked excited.

Using Erik’s face as a gauge, he could estimate just how outlandish the scheme was. Apparently, it sounded like it could work.

Their discussion was cut short when the door-chime sounded. Loki and Thor did not actually realise what it was until Darcy stuck her head around the side of the house and said, “I think you’ve got another visitor!”

It was the lady Natasha that went to the gate to answer the doorbell cautiously.

"Hi guys, heard you moved in," Rachel Wu said around the stack of plastic containers she was carrying. "House-warming presents in case you're still busy with the move."

"Rachel, you shouldn't have," Loki said loudly, slipping pass the agent to take half the food containers. "Look, it's Rachel and she's brought Peking duck!"

"Rachel, this is Natasha and Clint--our old friends. And Phil, Dr Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Erik Selvig from Puerto Antiguo. Just in time too. We can have an impromptu party," Loki ad-libbed, the maniac gleam of mischief in his eyes clear to anyone looking for it. 

Thor found himself with an armload of styrofoam boxes, the contents of which he was fairly familiar with now. It was a favourite of his and Loki's at the Golden Phoenix but as it tended to be sold out on most days, they seldom had any leftover for the employees to take--something that the lady Rachel had noticed. Dr. Foster and company looked bemused, while the agents maintained an air of surprise and looked to Phil Coulson for direction.

"What, really?" Rachel asked in surprise. " _Now?_ I mean, should I call Dale as well?"

"Maybe for the actual party. They brought beer and chips," Loki said, obvious aware that he was pushing it.

"Yeah, we brought the beer and chips," Darcy said, inhaling the aroma of warm duck. "That smells great!"

"So it does." His face schooled into avuncular affability once more, Coulson gestured at the patio. "We'll shift all the tables you've got together."

"Sure," Clint said. "We've only got three tables right now. Thor, lend us a hand."

The duck was passed to Darcy and somehow or other, they wound up having a meal on the patio, cramming down duck, cucumber and spring onions wrapped in pancakes. Jane had prudently brought plastic cups and there were actually enough plates to go around after digging around the boxes of supplies.

Rachel could talk for the Olympics and while she was not prying into Clint and Natasha's backgrounds, she was inquiring into the lady Jane's work. As Jane's research involved more scientific jargon than most people were comfortable with, Rachel's questions inevitably centred on Clint and Natasha's fascinating and colourful past in the circus and in Las Vegas.

Loki was content to let them rehearse their stories and Thor knew that the only question likely to come his way was "More duck?" The lady Rachel seemed convinced that feeding people was the best demonstration of friendly affection and he was not going to argue when there was Peking duck and cold beer on offer.

They waved when Rachel left. Phil never stopped smiling even as Loki said that he would update her when he could go back to fill in the gaps left by Maureen's son going off to college in the fall.

"That was weird," Darcy said, echoing the thoughts of everyone holding a paper plate and surreptitiously trying to get bits of duck and spring onion out of their back teeth.

"It was, wasn't it? But that was good duck," Phil said, getting out a black garbage disposal bag. "Clean up first. Meeting later. I've brought a coffee machine."

Half an hour later, the espresso machine was set up in the kitchen and purring away.

"Even weirder," Darcy observed to Jane over the rim of her cup. "Especially when he pulled that high-end coffee machine out of their car."

Thor suspected that the day would become even stranger after they spoke to the agents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a slightly surreal experience, having Peking duck with two of the deadliest agents he had ever handled, two astrophysicists and their assistant, a pair of aliens and their one-time employer from the Chinese restaurant in town.

Definitely within the top five weirdest moments in his time as an employee of S.H.I.E.L.D. and his life so far. A fact that was compounded when they finally managed to sit down to hear what Dr. Foster had decided and what their visitors were intending to do.

“We’re seeking asylum on your world,” Thor announced after Loki prodded him in the ribs.

“Asylum,” Agent Coulson said carefully. “That is usually reserved for individuals who can prove that they are facing persecution and are at risk of further persecution in their country of birth.”

“I’ve survived two assassination attempts in Asgard. That counts as persecution,” Loki pointed out. “And Thor will probably face extreme prejudice and persecution if we were to return to _my_ home dimension. That will most likely lead to another assassination attempt and an inter-dimensional war. I cannot guarantee that your world will stay uninvolved.”

“We’re already harbouring you here, legally or not, so I think we’re already involved,” Coulson said, not the least bit amused by the threat of a war with other dimensions. “What makes you think that the people who actually make these decisions will grant you asylum?”

Loki held up a finger in a gesture he had probably learned from some television programme. “Ah, but your people have no precedent for individuals seeking asylum from other universes, so you will be able to set that precedent.”

“You will be able to maintain contact, however tenuous, with two alien dimensions,” Dr. Foster chipped in. “If you really claim to serve the greater good, it can’t hurt to have good relations with the aliens that might be more advanced than we are.”

Coulson inclined his head towards her. “Dr. Foster, I realised that you probably suggested this idea to them.” 

“I don’t have to hide my involvement from you,” she said, unable to keep the faint hint of snarkiness out of her tone. She had taken the loss of her equipment hard. “You probably knew we were talking about this.”

“Surveillance was unavoidable.” He took a deep breath. “I do not have the authority to do anything more than pass this on to Director Fury.”

“Tell your superiors of our decision then,” Thor declared and Coulson had to remember that these . . . people had been brought up as royalty and expected to have things done their way.

“No doubt they will want to come to some sort of . . . compromise.” The slyer member of the alien duo wore a smile that never really reached his eyes and it was much easier to believe that they were of another species when confronted with Loki Laufeyson’s cool regard.

“You will still need help in acclimatising,” Coulson pointed out.

“Oh no, we’ve grown very fond of Clint and Natasha,” Loki chimed in. “In fact, Natasha’s going to teach me how to use tampons soon.”

The fractional twitch of Agent Romanoff’s left eyelid was probably the world’s most muted version of an S.O.S. signal. Coulson thought that he would have to apply to Fury to give her a raise at this rate.

In fact, there would have to be some manpower adjustments after this. _A lot_ of adjustments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This far into the meeting and Coulson had made no concrete promises. “Right, so if you’re applying for asylum, what is Dr. Foster’s part in all of this?”

“Dr. Foster wants what she calls ‘first dibs’ on recording future dimensional incursions from my world or whenever the Bifrost is activated to bring people across,” Loki elaborated. “I am all for her taking the lead on such a project for she had the nous to track us down before your people did.”

“Point taken. We will look into that. But we will also need more information on these assassination attempts.”

“Seeing as they are the main thing we’re concerned about right now,” Clint added. “What kind of assassination attempts are we talking about here?”

“Dropping dangerous animals on our wedding procession and magical traps,” Loki informed the agents. He looked delighted in their discomfort at the mention of magic. Only Natasha Romanoff looked unfazed or was better at keeping her face completely neutral. “I did wonder how you’re going to defend us against that sort of thing.”

“There has to be a way. We just have to find it,” Coulson said. “Rest assured that we will keep our end of the bargain.”

“Tell us about how you wound up getting married,” Darcy injected. “And why are they trying to kill you?”

Of all the topics in the universe she could have chosen . . . Thor risked a look at Loki’s face and found that the imp of mischief was gone and replaced by something he was quite familiar with by now.

“It was an arranged marriage--it’s all rather old-fashioned,” Loki said with a wave of his hand. “Nothing like your modern monarchies where they get to marry commoners.” 

“ _Commoners_?” Darcy’s eyebrows rose a little in surprise. There might have been a small snort from the direction of Agent Romanoff, but Thor could not be entirely certain of the source.

“I meant people who were not royalty.”

“So what makes you so special?” Clint asked.

“Monarchies are usually based on the divine right to rule, but all the stuff I did for all my history modules seems to being telling me that it’s basically the right to rule by conquest,” Darcy chipped in. “So which one is it?”

“Are they not one and the same?” Loki looked bored. “My people do not quibble over such matters. They go to war and when the dust settles, there is either a new king or my dam remains victorious.”

“That is the kind of thing we’re trying to avoid. With _any_ extra-dimensional races,” Coulson commented dryly. Jane and Erik were watching this exchange with something akin to alarm. Thor could hardly blame them when everything discussed thus far had indicated a high probability of trouble following them to Earth.

“And it is probably the reason for the attempts on our lives. Both our Realms will go to war if we were to meet an untimely end,” Loki informed them. “Is it not enough that we are powerless here on your charming backwater of a world?”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor protested. This was not the time or place to starting one of his rants. He should have attempted to divert the discussion to another course earlier.

“Wow, with an attitude like that, you probably needed an arranged marriage,” Clint said, obviously fed up with Loki’s attitude by that time.

“Yes, Agent Barton, seeing that I was no-one’s preferred mate, I never cultivated the charm to be one,” Loki agreed poisonously, his eyes flashing with a malice that Thor recognised all too well. 

“Whoa, this is probably something cultural, but you’re both out of line,” Coulson said. “It’s not going to work if we’re going to do this every time there is a cultural issue.”

At this, Loki stood up and left the living room. 

Not even Darcy had a witty quip to offer at that point in time.

“It’s not actually a cultural issue,” Thor said at last. “I’ll _try_ to talk to him.”

Loki was standing outside in the small backyard, glaring venomously at the night sky and deliberately not looking at Thor when he emerged from the backdoor.

“Loki,” Thor began.

“Do not lecture me!”

“I have no intention to. The son was Coul spoke true--you were both in the wrong. But they do not know why you are so bitter. Or perpetually defensive.”

“Am I to _share_ my feelings now, Thor? Like the humans do with their paid psychiatrists?” Loki sneered.

“Will it hurt you any more?” Thor demanded. “Perhaps you should get it off your chest as they say here?”

“Fine,” Loki hissed. He stalked back inside again, emerging from the kitchen like the lead actor of a pantomime, all bristling and dramatic. 

“When I was barely two centuries old and my younger brother proved to be a hale and normal child, it was abundantly clear that the tribes would go to war before they would allow my king and dam to put me on the throne. So marrying Thor was the only thing I had. And now I am here.” Loki took a deep breath. “That is all I feel like sharing today.”

The extremely awkward silence that he left in his wake was broken by Thor who gestured vaguely in the direction Loki left in and said, “I’ll just . . . see if he’s coping.”

Loki had retreated to their bedroom after that theatrical exit and Thor found him sprawled out over most of the bed.

“I suppose you’ve come to see if I’m all right.”

Poking his head out from under the pillow, Loki looked up at him and smirked with no trace of his previous angst. Thor groaned when he realised that Loki was capable of using even his bitterness for his own ends. It looked like Loki was going to make the humans work to get information out of him. 

“That was hardly necessary,” Thor grumbled. His brothers had been right about his contrary nature. And he was proving to be a manipulator to the very end.

“Hush--you’re supposed to be comforting your spouse.” Loki reached out and pulled Thor down to the bed and reached for one of the new boxes of condoms. The effect of Idunn’s apples still lingered within him and Thor felt himself harden involuntarily at the very thought of sex. “So get your jeans off and fuck the bad feelings out of me.”

The combination of Loki learning how to read and the humans’ television programmes really had a lot to answer for, Thor thought before they proceeded to make enough noise to cause every human that was not Clint and Natasha to leave the house in a hurry. 

Then the bed broke and they made plans to go back for their old one as they rutted on the mattress on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Asylum,” Nick Fury said thoughtfully after Coulson made his report.

 _“Asylum,”_ Coulson confirmed. _“As expected, they want certain assurances. I’m sure Dr. Foster and her associates have been coaching them with regard to what to ask for. As for Dr. Foster, she wants it all in paper too.”_

“That, we will have little trouble with, it’s the other two applying for asylum that I’ll have to put before the Council. Along with the fascinating fact that they’re likely to attract assassination attempts from another universe.”

_“I expect you have a way of framing it in a more positive light, Director.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“New protocols?” Clint looked at the file waiting for them on their tablets. “Is that even enough now that Charles and Di up there are likely to be targets of some trans-dimensional feud? Oh hell, I just said _trans-dimensional_.”

“It’s definitely bigger than anything you’ve been in so far. Including Budapest,” Natasha said as she checked the perimeter cameras and reset the proximity alarms again.

“If it’s anything like Budapest or even remotely as messy as Budapest, we’re going to need to modify these protocols,” Clint pointed out.

“We’ll cope. We’ve coped before in Budapest.” Natasha shrugged as she picked up her tablet. “Who knows, it might be educational the way Budapest was.”

“You and I seem to remember Budapest differently. _Very_ differently.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	21. Interlude: In the Court of the Elven King

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Elves_. The Ljósálfar. A long-lived and mysterious race by all accounts. Very much attuned to the rhythms of their world and habitual practitioners of magic. Extremely mysterious and well-versed practitioners of magic who kept their secrets very close to their collective chest.

Very fond of over-elaborate ceremonies as well, much to the Asgardian contingent’s dismay. Loki had caught Thor trying not to yawn at least five times already during the official welcoming procession. They were ostentatiously representing Asgard at the Elven King’s fifth millennial celebration--a glorified birthday party--while staying out of the way of potential assassins. Standing before the Elves in his ceremonial armour, jewellery and accompanied by his equally dressed-up spouse, Loki was starting to doubt the wisdom of this trip, personal safety be damned.

 _“Be very careful. Their ways are not ours. Or of Jötunheim,” Frigga had cautioned them both. “As a sorcerer and a wielder of elemental power, you will be able to tell that something is . . . odd about your hosts. Their use of what they term_ glamour _is as normal to them as breathing and it is not considered polite to mention that they are not as they seem.”_

But they were present, in the gloriously opulent halls of the Elven King in Álfheim and trying not to look sideways at their gracious hosts because it was not the diplomatic thing to do. But Frigga had been right. It was _odd_ , for the want of a better word. Whenever he turned to look upon them, he would see flashes of what lay under the glamour. It was a peculiar sort of double-vision that was off-putting at first, then distracting as he tried to focus on what was being said.

Precious little of importance from what he could tell. If the Asgardians liked their ceremonies glorious but brief and followed by a lake of alcohol and piles of roasted meat, the Elves liked their pomp and illusions just as much, if not a lot more. The row of servers lining the hall had not moved to pass on the cups of wine they held on silver trays. The toasts to welcome their distinguished guests would come later, after all this long-winded prattling was over.

Loki would like to have a cup of wine or six right now. Anything to break the tedium.

But they could not drink themselves into a stupor--not yet, there was still the exchange of gifts to come. The ambassadors had to perform it first. Then Loki and Thor had to pass on the personalised gifts from the reigning monarch of Asgard to the Elven King. Queen Frigga had arranged it all and there was to be no mix-ups or accidents. Brenda was standing behind them holding the golden coffer with Astrid and Brigit just behind her to ensure that the page did not fall asleep on her feet. Or perhaps they were there least _all_ their charges fall prey to boredom.

Loki would not have blamed anyone if they had fallen asleep halfway through the proceedings. The Elven lordling or major-domo standing on the edge of the dais had been droning on for the better part of the hour and Loki had learned that the Elves liked nothing more than the beat a metaphor until it was dead and insert poetry or an ancient quote wherever possible. The Asgardian bards and Frost Giant singers were practically laconic in comparison.

He told himself that it was merely another culture to wrap his head around. At least it gave him something to do in the middle of this lengthy ceremony--the first of many, Loki knew with a growing sense of dread. His gaze roved around the throne-room of the Elven King, taking in the pearly glow of the sorcerous light globes that dotted the hall. Elves seemed to like muted lighting--like a cloud-filled dawn or a winter’s twilight. All the better to cloak their personal illusions with, in all likelihood. The dark wood and marble appeared to serve a backdrop to the pale beauty of the Ljósálfar or the Fair Folk as they were purportedly known on Midgard back in the day. 

Most of the Elves were indeed extremely pale behind their illusions. But it was the paleness of soft grubs writhing on the underside of logs that Loki had seen on Asgard. Taller than the Dark Elves, certainly, however they were also spindly and angular in a way that reminded him of the white-furred spiders that haunted certain caverns north of Utgard. It was difficult to discern their true appearance--somewhat humanoid in shape, but still very different.

At least Loki and Thor were united in a sort of truce in an alien environment. His spouse looked just as uncomfortable in his ceremonial armour and had been shifting his weight from one foot to another for the past half hour. Loki had been amusing himself by counting the number of times Thor was stifling his yawns. He almost failed to catch his own yawns in time once or twice.

After something akin to an eternity, the speeches stopped and the guests dutifully moved forwards to present their gifts and receive fragile glass flutes of straw-coloured wine to toast the royal personage. The wine tasted vaguely of wildflowers with a hint of apricots, but it was barely a polite mouthful for Thor and Loki.

But the end of formalities also meant that the King’s guests had the freedom to move about and graze upon the food and wine that had been arranged on tables that had seemingly appeared around them out of thin air.

Someone in the halls of the Elven King was an excellent stage manager and steward. Perhaps they had several organisers working for this event. Queen Frigga might be hard pressed to do better. The Asgardians were certainly pleased to have something to eat and drink--even though the food was light on meat and the wine was lighter still in terms of alcohol content.

“It’s meant to be a _snack_ before the celebratory feast,” Astrid murmured to Brenda. Their page was looking at her empty plate and back at the buffet table after three rounds of airy bite-sized cakes and some sort of rolled up savoury pastry that melted on the tongue.

“It certainly is not very taxing on the stomach,” Loki agreed. The Valkyries had tasted the food and then moved onto the wine because there were no tables to rest their plates on. The Elven servitors moved to whisk away their used glasses so quickly that they were almost invisible to their guests. It had the added effect of making Astrid and Brigit jumpy. Loki had observed them reaching for their blades the first time it happened. Each of the honoured guests could bring a pair of guards into the halls of the Elven King, but they could only be armed sparingly. The Valkyries had a short sword apiece and Loki had no doubt that they did not actually _need_ that many weapons to be effective, but they had been uneasy about it all the same.

The assassination attempt had shaken everyone, whether they admitted it or not. Even the Valkyries were paranoid and _that_ , more than anything else, made Loki nervous. Their assigned Elven liaison noticed and promptly gestured sharply at servitors. They flitted away without protest.

“The Valkyries are indeed vigilant,” he--their guide seemed to prefer that pronoun--said to cover up the awkward pause. The Elves had a different set of pronouns that they were rather secretive about and possibly more than three genders.

Their guide was Ilesíl, a sort of minor prince or duke if Loki understood the translation supplied by the All Speech correctly. Ilesíl was named as a _Lord_ but then so was every other Elven and non-Elven noble present. They had generalised and possibly oversimplified a number of terms for their guests over the millennia.

“We have good cause,” Brigit said, looking out of place amidst the gossamer robes and silken finery with her practical armour and rigid posture. Ilesíl was wearing something that shimmered and gleamed with tiny seed pearls and traces of gold thread woven in some abstract pattern. Like the other Elves, he affected no other jewellery other than a diadem or fillet in his long, unbound hair.

“Politics, such a bore--but entirely necessary,” Lord Ilesíl said languidly. His dark eyes betrayed a less complacent attitude that was at odds with the rest of his dandified demeanour.

“Politics and diplomacy,” Astrid said gravely.

Ilesíl inclined his head in her direction. “True, Lady Valkyrie. We are working to maintain a fragile peace after all.”

Astrid was saved from thinking up something suitably diplomatic to say as a trio of Elven lordlings approached and Ilesíl made the necessary introductions.

Loki found himself exchanging diplomatic small talk with an Elf who might have been Ilesíl’s first wife or primary mate. Apparently they had four children, two fosterlings and were expecting another pair soon.

“I hope Jhalís has made excuses for my absence,” Ilesíl said, gliding up to them before Loki could ask about how they knew they were getting a pair. Jhalís did not look as though she was expecting twins. Lean and just a little less angular than Ilesíl, Jhalís was one of the few Elves present with skin the colour of mahogany--odd for a race of beings cloaked in illusions. Loki filed that question away for later and turned his attention to his host. “I think your spouse is getting an earful of longwinded descriptions of our local sports over there.” 

Ilesíl’s airy gesture encompassed Thor and a group of Elves that appeared keen to get his attention.

Loki checked again and noticed the sardonic look that Ilesíl and Jhalis exchanged. “Better him than me,” he said, relaxing a little more. “Not your favourite people?”

“No--they will no doubt get to the point eventually and try to sound out your prince’s views on the latest controversy that grips them,” Jhalís said with an elegant shrug of her silk-clad shoulders. “Like the interdiction on dimensional travel. Or the ban on certain exports from this Realm to Asgard.”

“Thor isn’t likely to stay with them long then. But you don’t seem to think the same way,” Loki observed.

“We are not apathetic. It never pays to be ignorant of the direction the currents flow.” Ilesíl took a draught of wine and nibbled the pastry that Jhalís offered him. “But we’re not going to show our hand so . . . publicly.”

Loki had the impression that Jhalís and Ilesíl were watching the Elves speaking with Thor more closely than they would like others to know.

“Not when there are other diversions at hand.” Jhalís indicated a table where an elaborate flower arrangement sat. Some Elves had plucked the blossoms as they wandered past.

Examining the milky-white flowers and finding them just blandly pretty, Loki looked at his hosts questioningly. “What’s this then?”

“This . . . It is called the moonflower in our tongue--it blooms under the light of our twin moons,” Ilesíl explained. “This is a southern subspecies--rarer than the local kind.”

“What is it for?”

“Well, we eat the petals.” Suiting word to action, the Elf plucked a petal and placed the pale fragment on his tongue.

Loki mimicked the action. The thin petal almost dissolved in his mouth, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “What does it do?”

“It has interesting effects . . .”

Oh. _Oh no . . ._

“Prince Loki?”

If there was one thing Loki had learned from the witches, the elder sorcerers and the Asgardian tomes, it was very basic warning not to taste foreign or unknown substances without checking or running a diagnostic. Different species had different metabolisms after all . . .

The _interesting effects_ took hold almost immediately. Loki did not have the time to summon up a spell to purge himself before he fell. And kept falling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had not been _right_ that they be packed off for their own safety while danger threatened the Realm.

They had returned to their quarters after the meeting with his parents, Loki trailing after Thor to his rooms in uncharacteristic silence. The servants had laid out a light repast for it had been a very long and trying day. Thor was not in a mood to appreciate it.

The jug shattered against the far wall. Too well trained by Frigga to throw his hammer around indoors while in a snit, Thor was still very hard on the furnishings.

"Control yourself," Loki snapped. "There is no need to act like a child after being sent off to another Realm like one."

"I like it not. Sent away as though we do not have the strength or the will to battle this foreign threat--"

"You have the might and I have the mind and magic for it," Loki agreed easily, "But do you really think that the foe will be so easily found?"

To that, Thor had to agree--a little sulkily--that their yet unseen enemy was wily enough to evade the combined sight of Heimdall, Odin, the Valkyries and his mother’s train of _seiðkonur_.

“Then we should strike out on our own. In a smaller group we would not be so conspicuous or predictable,” Thor suggested.

“That idea has merit, but even with the aid of your friends, I fear that the enemy is still going to be difficult to flush out. It’s not another hunt for some creature hiding in the wilds.” Standing over the shards of glass, Loki manipulated the molecules with a simple gesture and spun the fragments back into their original shape. “This foe has subtle magic. Or many talented sorcerers working for them. Besides, I have heard many things about the magic of the Fair Folk.”

Loki was always curious about the magic of other Realms. Thor had agreed at last to doing what his parents wanted. Sif and the Warriors Three had not been keen on going off on their own--the assassination attempt had rattled them as well.

Standing in the Hall of the Elven King, Thor could see that Loki was regretting his choice. Their visit so far had been low on magic and high in lengthy poetry.

The Elves were far too fond of trappings and the appearance of their court. Thor got the impression that they wanted to look like tall, fair beings that glowed--much like their twin moons according to their poetry--but anyone with rudimentary magic, even elemental mastery like his own, could detect the faintest ripple of illusion that they cloaked themselves in. It was . . . slightly disturbing. Loki was similarly distracted and discomfited by the breaks in the Elven glamour.

Now was also not the time to say “I told you so.” Though Thor did have slightly uncharitable thoughts about how his parents were in Asgard, actually doing something productive after palming off this onerous obligation on them.

They could not risk another argument here and now. People were beginning to wonder. Thor was not used to being underprepared for situations in his daily life. He would realise only belatedly that people were expecting to see him with his spouse at certain events. That there were certain expectations that came with being a wedded prince--responsibilities he had to take care of. Most of them did not even involve their activities in the bedchamber. 

Paramount amongst these new responsibilities was maintaining the impression of being in harmonious accord with said spouse. At this moment, under the scrutiny of other beings from other Realms, that impression was the only thing that mattered. Thor could imagine his father and mother’s displeasure if they disgraced themselves and bickered in public.

The effort required to stay awake and not fidget during the lengthy ceremonies kept him and Loki from continuing their argument about what they could have done back in Asgard. It did not require much effort to become extremely upset when Loki sampled a petal from some hallucinogenic plant and went into a strange trance. Yelling for a healer and swallowing back undiplomatic threats against their Elven hosts took much more restraint and the Elves were fortunate that he had not brought Mjolnir. Astrid and Brigit went into action immediately and started diagnostic spells while adopting defensive positions. Their page Brenda was wide-eyed with fear and unconsciously chewing on her knuckles.

Perhaps it was some quirk of Loki’s Jötunn biology that caused him to react that way to the plant, the Elves said after fluttering about with their diagnostic spells for far too long--Frigga’s best healers could have done it in less than half the time. They stopped making excuses when they saw the look in Thor’s eyes. Tyr, who had been allowed into the feasting pavilion at last, cleared his throat and stepped in.

“The princes have been the target of several attempts on their lives. This already looks highly suspicious. If Prince Loki does not wake from this trance soon, Heimdall will report this to my liege,” Tyr said sternly. He was in charge of overall security on this visit and this would not reflect well on him at all.

Muttering about how Loki had not been _forced_ to partake of their hallucinogens, the Elven healers got back to work. It took several hours for the toxic components to be purged from Loki’s system and another hour after that before he showed signs of consciousness.

The Elves offered up comments about how worried he must have been and stopped because he had glared at them. It had not been an act because Loki had been comatose for a good while. Thor looked at the food brought to their quarters with suspicion until Tyr said that he had checked it over with one of Frigga’s handy diagnostic spells.

Taking a deep draught of chilled wine straight from the decanter, Thor slumped into a decadently comfortable chair of Elven design as some of the tension left him. The healers had just left and he had not actually noticed the quarters they had been allocated until now. There was a lot of dark marble and wood that contrasted well with pale silks and lush fabrics of different origins decorating the interconnected chambers. Tyr must have been pleased that there were not many places for assassins to hide in the spacious rooms.

The Valkyries had checked the suite again before excusing themselves to further their investigations. They had looked especially grim throughout and promised to report back the moment they had any information. Which left him with Tyr’s men to watch the doors and the page Brenda to run errands.

Loki could not appreciate the size and sumptuousness of the bed he was lying on at the moment. Nor could he make snarky remarks about the gauzy hangings and strange sculptures that decorated the place. Thor thought that the glasses they had been provided with were much too small. But at least he had his hammer with him now . . .

“If this is where we go when we die, I’m going to have to talk to the individual in charge about the décor.” Loki’s voice was hoarse but it still carried in the high-ceilinged room. Thor looked over and saw that Loki’s eyes were open.

“You looked like hell.”

“Why thank you, dear--you always know how to make me feel better.” Loki coughed as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked about warily. “Is there anything to drink? I’m parched.”

“What they said was true though--you didn’t _have_ to partake any of the drugs they offered,” Thor said as he passed Loki a glass of wine. 

To his credit, Loki looked at the clear liquid suspiciously as though he feared another dose of hallucinogens. “I had no idea it was a recreational drug that would interfere with my metabolism negatively,” he muttered sourly.

“The wine’s not poisoned or a recreational drug--Tyr checked.” Thor sat back down again with a sigh. 

Loki finished the wine and glared at the glass as though it was to blame for being far too small to hold a decent volume of liquid. “That wasn’t a very good showing today,” he said at last.

“No, it wasn’t,” Thor agreed before curiosity got the better of him. “So what did you see?”

“Oh, just the usual run-of-the-mill hallucinations,” Loki answered lightly. “And some memories. That time at Trygve’s Keep for instance.”

That incident had been the cause of their most strenuous argument to date.

Thor winced a little at the reminder of the time Loki had accompanied them out on their habitual hunts. Or “jaunts”, as his mother liked to call them. It had been an attempt to get Loki out of the Palace and hopefully mend the last argument they had.

It had not gone well.

Before that particular discussion could start up again, a chime announced that there were visitors outside their chambers.

Tyr announced that it was the Elven King’s attendants and Thor had to admit them after they were screened. 

“Compliments of His Majesty,” the pair of attendants said melodiously as they proffered a tray with gifts from the King. “His Majesty hopes that Prince Loki has not been inconvenienced too much.”

The gifts looked like a thick Elvish tome and a crystalline flask containing some amber fluid. The inscrutable personage on the dais had not mingled with his guests, but the news that one of his visitors had taken ill had not escaped him.

Loki had got out of bed at the first sign of visitors and now he managed to nod at the attendants graciously. “I am honoured to receive these gifts . . .”

“ _The Sagas of the North_ and wine from the King’s own collection,” the Elf on the left informed him. “His Majesty thought that Your Highness would like something to read while recovering from this episode.”

“Tell His Majesty that I thank him for his hospitality. And how fares the investigation?” Loki slipped in the query without changing the smooth tone of his voice, thus saving Thor from demanding the same.

“Investigations are underway.” If the attendants were surprised by the question, they did not show it.

“Yes, but it was no accident that a certain kind of plant that was not supposed to be on the menu had been placed where it wasn’t supposed to be, correct?” Loki probed.

“There is no doubt that the refreshments and entertainments were carefully selected to match the metabolisms of all species present,” the attendant on the right admitted carefully. “Investigations are still pending.”

“That’s just saying they don’t know anything,” Loki said after the attendants had excused themselves. Thor was inclined to agree.

Then Ilesíl announced himself and asked for an audience to profess that he had no idea that the moonflowers had been substituted for a variety that was not just extremely hallucinogenic but borderline toxic to Frost Giants. He realised that something was off after the effects had taken hold, but could not do anything as he had started hallucinating as well.

“So what does that sort of flower normally do to you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Loki actually looked curious as he scrutinised the Elf Lord. The effects of that particular type of moonflower had not caused Ilesíl to lose consciousness for several hours.

“It’s mostly memories . . .” Ilesíl looked about as troubled as an Elf could look, glamour notwithstanding. “The odd war from the past, terrible times . . . it does not give the pleasant sort of dreams, but more of the ones where stronger emotions are at play. That sort of flower is not something we would set out in a public venue in front of guests.”

Loki raised his eyebrows at that and Thor found himself mirroring it. “I really wonder what your private parties are like then.”

“We wouldn’t actually tell you unless you wanted to join in, Highness--full warnings are required for that sort of thing,” Ilesíl stated firmly. “For my carelessness, you are within your rights to request for another host.”

“If you were actually responsible for that, then you’re being remarkably foolish by walking into range of Thor’s hammer,” Loki replied. “We’ll keep you close just in case--look, the King has sent gifts and no-one explained them to us.”

“You could have taken him up on that offer to change guides,” Thor said once the Elf Lord had departed. 

“I like him slightly more than the other Elves.” Loki lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Ilesíl had concisely informed them that the wine was good but strong enough to knock out an Asgardian after two glasses. And the tome was mainly Elven history with very little poetry--Ilesíl had flagged out most of the sections on magic with a single gesture. “And I think I will be unavailable to visitors from now until . . . tomorrow. Being unwell comes with privileges.”

Thor had to admit that Ilesíl was slightly more tolerable than the others--he had not said a word about comparing the poetry of different Realms and was relatively straightforward in a crisis.

He took advantage of Loki’s recovery by telling Tyr that they were both not available to sympathetic visitors--with the exception of Astrid and Brigit--until the next day and sent the page for more provisions. 

“Remember to compose a brief and suitable thank you speech for the Elven King’s presents,” Loki said without opening his eyes.

Thor’s resultant sigh actually caused the hanging lamps to quiver on their gilded chains.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The events prior to his collapse came back to Loki as he rested in bed. He saw past the illusion once again. The mildly concerned face of the Elf Lord Ilesíl swam in the air before him. . . and faded away so that he looked into the true face of the Ljósálfar.

He did not truly remember what that face looked like. The glamour had some sort of perception filter that made him forget. But he was certain now that the Ljósálfar had good reason to don glamours.

Then he had dreamed . . . or at least he thought it was a dream. No, it was a _memory_.

_The buck had led them on a merry chase, but they had cornered it up against the wall of a cliff eventually._

_It was difficult to say if Thor’s arrow or Loki’s ice bolt had reached its heart first, but the buck fell over dead with minimal thrashing--a clean kill. Hogun and Sif reached the cliff base then, but refrained from victory cries to avoid scaring off other game._

_“A good sized catch,” Thor said, sounding pleased. No longer with his ice bolts armed, Loki nodded. They had dinner now and no-one was going to dispute the killing blow._

_Even Fandral and Volstagg noticed that they were studiously trying not going to get into an argument as they tied the buck to a makeshift sled to drag back to their camp._

_The queen’s ultimatum had worked, to some extent. Frigga’s warnings were rarer than Odin’s, making them all the more impactful._

_Loki saw this trip as a way of seeing more of Asgard and getting away from the stifling atmosphere of the court. If it meant that he had work on getting along with Thor more, he would take it in his stride._

_As it turned out, the Realm of Asgard did not just contain the main city and a few outlying islands. The peninsula the city was situated on widened and gave way to mountains and low-lying plains. There were coastal regions and ice-capped peaks that Loki mentally made a note to visit once he was better at surviving on Asgardian terrain._

_He was already learning a lot about the local game and about Vanir hunting customs from Hogun. The taciturn scout was also an expert tracker and very good at hiding and waiting for game--the right kind of game._

_“Take not the pregnant does or young deer,” Loki recited. He had read the Asgardian rules of the hunt--they were similar to the codes of his people. Or any people who had no desire to deplete their game stocks within a few seasons. Common sense, really. “All right, so how do you tell if the doe is pregnant? And you can do it just by looking at their tracks?”_

_“It takes a bit more experience to tell,” Hogun said. “I imagine you would say the same of those frost wargs.”_

_“Fair enough. Do you want me to skin it now?”_

_Loki was fairly adept at skinning game, even the ones on a different world, making quick work of them with his knives. When he was done, Volstagg took over and started grilling the meat over the fire. Sif and Thor had hung up the deer hide to smoke it--the cured skin could be used to carry the extra meat if required._

_And looking at this wilderness, it might well be required if they did not pass another village. Or perhaps Loki was looking at it with the eyes of someone accustomed to living in cities amongst more people. They had passed the odd hamlet or settlement, the smells of wood smoke and domesticated animals jarring amidst the scents of the forest. Some did not desire to live within golden walls or fenced-in stockades, preferring the isolation of the wilderness instead._

_There had been a few like that on Jötunheim--hermits by choice rather than circumstance._

_“Trappers, furriers,” Volstagg replied to Loki’s query. “Hunters have made the odd cave up here into shelters. Do you have them on Jötunheim?”_

_“Yes--we have places for hunters to stop and rest as well--most of it passed down via memory and oral traditions.” Loki had some locations memorised but the other hides remained as closely-kept secrets of the professional hunters._

_Fandral did not look surprised by this. “Your people are really into hunting. Why I remember your brother jumping right onto the back of that frost warg and ripping its--”_

_“Hellblindi has unerring aim whenever it comes to ripping spines out. He inherited it from our sire,” Loki informed him dryly._

_“Your sire has impressive strength and agility--was he also a hunter?”_

_“ _All_ of us are taught the basics. When we’re old enough, around our first century, we join the adults to hunt or forage,” Loki said as he tossed a stick into the fire. Oh, but he remembered that day well. “On my first hunt, old Vidar just looked at me and told me to keep up or they’ll leave me behind.”_

_“What a coincidence--that’s a little something like what the other warriors said to me all those years ago when I joined them at weapons training,” Sif said brightly._

_Sif and Loki exchanged a look that was, despite vastly different cultures, full of understanding and the knowledge that certain things stopped being said after a while in the face of dogged determination. And a few elbows to the face._

_Even if it did mean that he had to run faster, push himself harder and exhaust himself just to keep up with the tail end of the hunting party. And stumbling around in the churned up ice and snow of their passage because he had been that much shorter. Wonderful times._

_“Not everyone was . . . accommodating,” Sif said, looking over at her compatriots. “That is why I know that Thor and the Warriors Three are my true friends.”_

_Had the others pushed her too when she tried to join them? Pushed her with their greater experience until she was battered and bruised in the hope that she would give up? He hoped that she had given them a hiding they would never forget--and he knew they would not because she was a woman, supposedly the less warrior-like half. There was nothing like absolute scorn to make Loki shove back against all the derision--even if just to see their faces when he survived everything they threw._

_Loki checked himself mentally. He was letting his personal perceptions colour the way he viewed Asgardians. The books and sagas also spoke of the Valkyries and shield maidens. Why some parts of their history were conveniently forgotten was a mystery to him. But it would explain why the way of the warrior was not expressly forbidden to Sif and the other ladies. Some of the hunters and trappers they had passed on their way through the mountains had been female--tough as boiled leather and more than willing to tell the Prince of Asgard that his party was getting too close to their traps._

_The rest of the evening passed in relative peace and Loki supposed that there was _some_ sort of camaraderie being formed. But the announcement that they were nearing the main settlement that guarded the western side of the mountains made him nervous again._

_“Lord Trygve’s keep is near--I can see the road from here,” Hogun said the next day._

_“I know a decent tavern there!” Fandral perked up immediately._

_“You always know a tavern in every city,” Sif said with a roll of her eyes. But she looked pleased to see something other than just trees and mountains for once._

_“And perhaps no rocks for pillows tonight!” Volstagg rubbed his hands in anticipation._

_“Barring the coastal keeps, it is the largest city on this side of the mountains,” Thor said to Loki. “It’s . . . different from the capital.”_

_Loki supposed that Thor had seen his trepidation on his face and he strove to keep his expression neutral._

_There had been certain reasons why he should not have left the palace in just the company of Thor and his friends. He was still a stranger to this land and while the people of the city had been grudgingly accepting of a foreign prince, these folk might not see it the same way. He had kept his Aesir appearance, but it would only take a little effort to deduce his identity when he showed up with Thor._

_Loki took a deep breath and then another. He had not been perturbed by the hunters in the wilderness, but they had been studiedly incurious about his presence. Or perhaps they were out of the loop with regards to the latest news._

_The people in this city would know--especially if they accepted Lord Trygve’s hospitality. But he could not go on dancing around the fact that he had essentially agreed to come to this Realm to learn how to live in it and rule it. And that meant all of it._

On a sinfully comfortable bed, a Realm away from camping in the rough, Loki almost laughed out loud. Compared to the Court of the Elven King, the time at Lord Trygve’s keep had been a mild reminder that the universe at large was not a particularly straightforward place. And he would need to rest before trying to untangle the new webs he had walked into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
